


Who We Are, Where We’re Going

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:11:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 77,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6731746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff has a dream. One day he’s going to rule Achievement City - rise to the top and become king of his own crew. Granted, right now he’s alone and struggling to pay the rent, but he’ll get there.</p><p>When Gavin comes along, he adopts him. When Ryan comes along, he falls in love. Suddenly everything seems within reach.</p><p>And then along comes Jeremy, with a dream of his own, threatening to destroy everything Geoff’s built.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. geoff

**i. geoff**

Fuck Geoff’s life, seriously.

He’s got enough fucking problems on his plate right now. The job he’s been doing for Glasgow sucks dicks and now the asshole’s refusing to pay him until he gets results. Well that’s fucking _great,_ isn’t it, when rent’s due next week and they’re barely scraping by. They’ve been eating ramen for weeks. He’s shitting _noodles_ at this point.

And now to top it all the fuck off, someone’s trying to kill him.

This is the only explanation he can come up with for the three near death experiences he’s had today. He’s never had the best luck in the world but _three_? That’s extreme even for him. Hence his belief that there is a murderer on his trail.

Either that or the brakes on his car just suddenly _decided_ to stop working, which, honestly, would not be all that surprising. Piece of shit.

That doesn’t explain the fact that earlier this afternoon an enormous potted plant fell from the window of an apartment building while he was standing on the street making a phone call. If he wasn’t in the habit of pacing the thing would’ve brained him - he’d barely stepped out of the way when it smashed _inches_ from where he was.

Like hell Geoff’s going to get taken out by a fucking plant.

The third incident takes place just a few streets away from his apartment. He’s been on tenterhooks all day, constantly looking over his shoulder, and he thought getting home at last he’d be safe.

It appears that is not the case.

He sees the motorcycle before it gets close to him, and it’s the fact that he’s already on edge that saves his life. The sudden uneasiness that hits him that _something is really fucking wrong here_ is the only reason he decides to abruptly dive into the nearest alleyway.

It’s the right choice. Three gunshots ring out - _crack, crack, crack_ \- they fly wide, missing the alley entirely. Geoff’s thrown himself to the ground and he flinches at the noise, curling up and covering his head.

“Fuck, fuck, holy _fuck_ ,” he whimpers.

Not gonna lie, he might’ve shit himself a little.

The motorbike roars past and he slowly uncurls, his heart pounding. And then leans over and dry-heaves, struggling not to throw up.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, and presses himself against the alley wall, touching the gun he keeps at his own waist. It’s for show, more than anything. He’s never fired it before - never _had_ to - but suddenly he wonders if the motorcyclist is gonna come and finish him off. He waits - the longest five minutes of his life - but all is silent and finally he slumps over, hands braced against his knees, and wonders how many fucking years that scare cut off the end of his life.

“Fuck,” he says again.

Geoff knows danger. He’s known it his whole life - in his family home, after he ran away, growing up in Achievement City where everyone’s just one big pack of dogs trying to bite and claw their way to the top. But it’s still fucking _scary_ \- he’s around guns on a day to day basis but the first time someone fires one right _at_ you will be enough to give him nightmares, he knows.

Not to mention, _three times in one day_.

Someone’s definitely after him. But as the shock fades and he creeps back onto the street, annoyance takes over when he realises that in his incredibly epic dive into the alley, he dropped the entire bag of groceries he’d been carrying, the precious few items that he’d managed to buy with the last of his money until Glasgow sees fit to give him his next paycheck.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” he cries, attempting to salvage anything he can - the milk carton split, but he dumps it back in the plastic bag, picks up the bread - five second rule can be stretched to five _minute_ rule, right? - and then hunts down all the oranges, because he’s pretty sure both he and Gavin are on the verge of getting scurvy and even if half of them have rolled into the gutter, they’re gonna peel them anyway. Nature’s packaging, bitch.

He runs the last few blocks home like a fucking _ninja_ , jumping from shadow to shadow and pressing himself against walls and at one point vaulting over someone’s fence and sprinting across their garden. It’s some Assassin’s Creed shit and he is very proud of it, even if he spatters milk everywhere in the process.

\---

“Someone’s trying to kill me!” Geoff cries, dramatically, as he bursts into the apartment.

Gavin’s tousled head pops up over the back of the couch. The blinds are drawn and only the blue glow of the television screen lights up the room. The news is on - police sirens and murder and gang wars. Just another day in AC.

“Good,” he announces, and Geoff throws an orange at him, managing to hit him square in the head. Gavin yelps and vanishes back down as Geoff locks and bolts the door and switches the lights on.

“I’m fucking serious, asshole,” he replies. “I nearly died _three times_ today. Someone’s out to get me.”

“It’s _God_ ,” Gavin informs him. He rubs his head, grimacing when his fingers catch in his own tangled mess of hair, and then sets to peeling the orange. “Divine retribution for your life of crime.”

“Can you take this seriously? Someone _shot_ at me out there!” His voice goes rather embarrassingly high pitched as he flings a hand towards the window. The shock of it’s hitting him now and he slumps into the nearest armchair. Holy shit. He nearly _died_.

Gavin’s gone still.

“Who?” he asks.

“Well, I don’t know! Asshole was on a motorbike and split as soon as he didn’t hit me! And that’s not all - someone cut the brakes of my car. Thank fuck I parked on a hill or I’d never have known. And then a giant damn potted plant fell outta nowhere and nearly killed me.”

“If it fell from the sky, it was _definitely_ God,” Gavin muses, but sighs when Geoff shoots him a filthy look. “Both those things aren’t uncommon in AC. People will be shitty for no reason. A drive by isn’t exactly rare either. Why would anyone want to kill you?”

“Fuck if I know!” Geoff replies, because it’s not like he’s a big name here, not like the people who have constant bounties on their heads, the top dogs who are always snapping at each other’s throats. All he does is work for gangs - not even _big_ ones - and never for more than a few jobs each. He makes deals.

And okay, maybe lately he’s started trying to get involved in the game too - selling information, blackmailing, pitting people against each other and siding with the victors - but never enough to draw attention.

Right?

“Don’t answer the door to anyone,” he informs Gavin, who just shrugs and splits the orange in half, tossing one to Geoff.

Geoff pops a segment in his mouth and chews pensively for a long moment. When he looks up again Gavin’s watching him, something concerned in his eyes. Geoff forces a smile.

“So basically it was a shit day at work,” he says, and Gavin huffs out a laugh, leaning back against the couch. There’s a new watch around his wrist - big, obnoxiously gold, not worth as much as it looks - too loose even on the tightest link. Geoff’s eyes run over him and he frowns a little, the usual concern rising up in him. He can’t help it, it’s easy to worry about Gavin.

They both _want_ too much. That’s the problem. Grew up with too little and now want to claim what the world owes them - but Geoff plans, takes the slow road, knows what he’s building up to. Gavin gets impatient, as much as Geoff tries to keep him in line. The kid’s a loose cannon, too wild and reckless, with a seriously skewed perception of which risks are worth taking.

“Who gave you that, then?” he asks, nodding at the watch.

“What makes you think I didn’t just take it?” Gavin challenges, lifting his chin. Geoff heaves himself up, walks over to the couch and _sits_ on him, drawing a winded yelp.

“Don’t lie, Gav. If it was worth anything you’d’ve pawned it already. If it’s not, you’d’ve thrown it out. So who are you sucking up to by wearing it?”

Gavin tries futilely to shove him off but Geoff doesn’t budge until finally Gavin goes still with a sigh of defeat.

“O’Shannassy,” he replies.

“I don’t know him,” Geoff says, frowning.

“ _Her_ ,” Gavin corrects. “She’s some smuggler. Not too big. I just did some lifts for her, nothing too dangerous. She paid me good money, though, and let me keep this.” He lifts his wrist and the watch slides halfway down his forearm. “Said she’d keep me on call.”

“Jesus Christ, Gavin,” Geoff snaps. “I told you not to get involved in gang stuff. Stick to stealing from rich assholes at uni - fucking hell, how long have you been doing this?”

Gavin looks away, something guilty crossing his face. And Geoff’s noticed the late nights, how Gavin’s been coming home with more money than usual and mysterious bruises - he just hasn’t said anything until now.

“Some time,” he replies vaguely, and Geoff runs a hand through his hair.

“I fucking mean it,” he says, and jabs a finger at Gavin’s chest. “Don’t get yourself involved in that shit.”

“Why?” Gavin challenges, lifting his chin. “You do! You think I don’t know where half our money goes? Bribery, blackmail, buying secrets - do you even know what you’re doing, Geoffrey?”

“Unlike you, yes,” Geoff snaps. “I’m building our way up, Gav. So we can start our own crew with more money in our pocket, with a reputation, with allies.”

“And enemies,” Gavin points out. “Didn’t someone try to kill you three times today?”

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Geoff warns, only to yelp when Gavin starts pinching him.

“Get off,” he says. “You’re squashing me.”

Geoff rolls his eyes and gets up, and Gavin shakes himself out like a bird with ruffled feathers before digging around in the couch cushions and producing a fat envelope, handing it over with a smirk. Geoff raises an eyebrow as he takes it, and sucks in a breath at how much money is inside.

“There’s groceries in the cupboard,” Gavin informs him smugly. “Unlike you, I’m providing for the family.”

“You suck,” Geoff informs him, even if he’s relieved about the rent. Gavin sticks his tongue out and Geoff reaches out and messes his hair up even more before pointing at him warningly. “Stay out of trouble. I mean it. You’re a good thief, but you’re not _that_ good. Leave the gang business to me.”

Something annoyed flickers across Gavin’s face.

“When you’re king,” he says, “What’ll I be? Your thief - isn’t that what you always say?” He wiggles his fingers at Geoff. “I need to hone my skills.”

Geoff pulls a face and turns away.

It’s true. That’s the plan, isn’t it? What he’s been building towards for years now. Starting his own crew - that’s the dream. And when they do, he’ll be the boss, the smooth talker, the man holding all the cards - and Gavin will be the thief. The one who plans and executes heists, who gets Geoff what he wants when he can’t talk it into his pocket.

And he is good. Even Geoff has to admit that.  

“I know,” he says tiredly.

He’s been trying to keep Gavin out of trouble, but he knows he can’t stop him. And it usually turns out fine - he’s just shaken up from today, from nearly dying three fucking times. Gavin’s face softens and he gets up and walks over to Geoff, pulling him into a tight hug.

Geoff hugs him back, comforted by the familiarity of it - Gavin, with his tangled shock of hair, a mess of skinny sharp angles bundled up into a hoodie. He’s not a kid anymore, even if Geoff will probably always see him as one. But he’s still here, after all these years. They both are. They’ll be fine.

\---

Geoff feels a lot better after getting some actual food in him - Gavin bought enough groceries to make stir fry and it’s a relief to taste something that isn’t flavoured by a packet of questionable powder.

The two glasses of whiskey possibly help too.

He almost starts to think that maybe today’s incidents _were_ just accidents. Gavin’s right, after all - that sort of thing isn’t uncommon in this shithole of a city.

They sit together after dinner, counting the money Gavin earned before lying huddled up together, warm and comfortably full. The couch is barely big enough for both of them and Gavin’s lying practically on top of Geoff’s chest, curled up with his head resting in the crook of Geoff’s shoulder. Geoff strokes a hand down his back, lulled into a sleepy daze, comforted by the rise and fall of the other’s chest as he breathes, the steady quick thumping of his heart.

“One day we’ll be rich,” he murmurs - the words come out slow, rhythmic, a story that he’s told so many times they both have it committed to memory. “We’ll run this city.”

“Not the way those AC businesses do,” Gavin continues. “Not like the Corpirate.”

“Not like the other gangs,” Geoff says. “No drugs. No preying on the vulnerable.” He reaches up, lazily taps the side of his head. “We’ll work our way up with smarts. These people all do so much shit to each other - steal, hurt, _kill,_ for nothing - it makes it easy to set them against each other. And then we’ll-”

“Climb to the top of the wreckage,” Gavin finishes, and Geoff looks down and catches his sparkling eyes and cheeky grin. He grins back.

“I can orchestrate it,” he says. “I know how. It’ll take time, it’ll be slow at first - but we can do it. And you - best thief in the city.”

“Thought you said I wasn’t that good,” Gavin points out, something petulant in it, and Geoff wraps an arm around his waist and jostles him.

“You know I’m just ribbing you,” he says, and pinches Gavin’s side. The other man laughs and Geoff feels a sudden swell of fondness for him. God, he loves Gavin. He’s the little brother he never had - the only good thing in this whole damn city. The only thing keeping him going sometimes, making him think it won’t be like this forever - shitty cheap apartments and barely scraping by, doing shady deals for shady people and hoping they’ll be kind enough to pay afterwards - but Gavin always _believes_ ; it keeps Geoff hopeful too.

“When we get there we’ll take others in,” he says. “Build up a crew. Lost boys like us. A king and his prince - we’ll have everything we ever wanted and no one will be able to take it from us.”

“Money,” Gavin murmurs.

“Yes,” Geoff says.

It _is_ about money. Maybe it’s not noble, but it’s true. How can it not be, when they’ve struggled for it their whole lives? Money is control, here. It’s life and power and not having to rely on other people.

“We’ll live comfortably,” he continues. “We’ll be the top dogs for once. We’ll have money to _spare_ , Gav. You’ll have motorbikes, just like you always wanted - more gold than you know what to do with.”

Gavin’s eyes are closed now. There’s a little smile on his face.

“And we’ll be untouchable,” he says. “We’ll steal for fun, not ‘cause we have to.”

“Exactly,” Geoff says. “And those assholes who call themselves _police_? We’ll collapse them from the inside too. We’ll be in control. Of _everything_.”

Gavin hums happily. They fall into silence, Geoff idly carding his fingers through Gavin’s hair, working out the knots and tangles. Gavin’s so quiet that Geoff thinks he’s fallen asleep, and when he speaks up suddenly it startles him.

“We need money to get there.”

Geoff frowns.

“We’ll have it soon,” he assures him. “Glasgow was a bust - I thought he’d be able to get me in touch with contacts, but all he’s done is fuck me around. But I’ve got other jobs lined up as soon as I can get outta my contract with him.”

“Right,” Gavin says, and falls silent again before letting out a tremendous yawn. He clambers off Geoff, managing to knee him _right_ in the balls as he does so. “Well, I’m off to bed! Water Princeton before you turn in, alright?”

“Cactuses don’t fucking need water,” Geoff groans, pouring himself another measure of whiskey.

“Cacti,” Gavin corrects. “And yes, they do! How do you think he grew so big? Because I water him every night.”

“No, you tell _me_ to water it every night and I _don’t_ ,” Geoff informs him. “I fucking fart on it instead. I’m killing it slowly.”

“ _Geoffrey_ ,” Gavin gasps, affronted. And then, more curiously, “Do you really? Is _that_ why he grew so big? I’ve heard you’re meant to talk to plants because the carbon dioxide helps them or something, right-”

“I’m not telling your fucking cactus a bedtime story,” Geoff says. “I draw the line there.”

Gavin laughs and leaves the room, tossing his beer bottle into the bin as he passes. Geoff gets up and wanders to the window - Princeton is in a pot on the sill, and really is pretty fucking enormous for something he bought for about five dollars when Gavin demanded a pet.

 _Five years ago_ , he thinks almost wistfully. It seems like only yesterday that Gavin was a gangly teenager and Geoff was at loose ends trying to figure out how to take care of them both. He stares morosely out the window, at the dark streets with only the occasional light from a passing car washing over the road. They’ve come a long way since then. _Still not far enough._

Sighing, he throws the rest of his whiskey into the cactus’ pot and wanders off to bed.

\---

Geoff wakes up at three a.m. when a man with a knife climbs in through their window.

It’s the sound of something shattering that has him sitting bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, looking frantically around. For a moment he doesn’t know what time it is. For a moment, he thinks he’s already dead.

The nightmares came, just as he expected them to - imagined gunshots, things falling from the sky, making him jolt awake every few seconds. And the noise, now, makes him panic - even if it’s completely silent after.

Too silent.

He focuses on his alarm clock, the numbers glowing brightly in his otherwise pitch black room. _03:00. Fuck_.

Was it a dream?

He waits with baited breath, listening - another thump comes from the living room, followed by a muffled curse.

_Oh my God. Someone’s in the apartment._

He can barely breathe as he scrabbles for his gun only to find that it’s _not fucking there -_ he left it on the table in the living room. Fuck, _fuck -_ he switches on his lamp and snatches up the closest weapon at hand, which turns out to be one of numerous whiskey bottles on his nightstand. Fuck off, he doesn’t have a problem.

Bottle in hand, he sneaks to the door, opens it slowly-

And then leaps into the living room with a wild yell, searching about for the perpetrator.

There’s a man picking himself up slowly off the floor, a knife in one hand. Behind him, the window is open - and Princeton is lying in a pile of dirt and shards of smashed ceramic pot.

The horrifying black skull mask he’s wearing is pretty much the first thing Geoff sees, giving him the momentary, ridiculous thought that it’s literally the Grim Reaper who’s after him.

Naturally, he screams at the top of his lungs, lunges forward and tries to beat the guy over the head with the bottle.

“Die, you bitch! Die, you bitch!” he screeches, rather hysterically. He swings at the man but he reaches up and grabs his wrist, yanking Geoff’s arm aside. Geoff stumbles, off balance, and falls right into the guy’s chest, sending them both to the floor.

The man literally cries, “Oof!” when Geoff lands on top of him, but Geoff’s more focused on, y’know, kicking the fucking _knife_ out of his hand. It clatters away across the floor and the man squirms before grabbing Geoff and flipping them over.

They wrestle for a few minutes. Geoff is still shrieking wildly, the other guy is grunting and trying to pin him down. He’s all in black leather and the flashes of the mask that Geoff can see, in the dim light from his open bedroom door, are horrifying.

Finally the guy manages to grab both Geoff’s wrists and pin them above his head. Except then he stops, seeming almost _confused_ as he realises that he can’t grab his knife or go for Geoff’s throat without letting one of his arms go.

“Um,” he says.

The thing is, Geoff’s not great at fighting. He’s always talked his way out of trouble and this guy is bigger than him - and he’s not a small man himself. But the second the would-be-assassin falters, he takes his chance, brings a knee up-

And kicks him square in the nuts.

With a strangled cry, the man falls back and Geoff stumbles to his feet.

At this point, the noise has woken Gavin. His bedroom door opens and he switches the living room light on, stunning them both for a moment as they squint at the sudden brightness.

Geoff hears Gavin give one of his startled squawks as he takes in the situation. But he reacts quickly, launching himself across the room and tackling the intruder. The man was just starting to get up and he stumbles when Gavin slams into him, but doesn’t fall - just straightens up with Gavin clinging to his back, legs wrapped around his waist and elbows hooked around his neck, attempting to strangle him.

“Get him, Gavin!” Geoff cries.

The man is stumbling around, trying to pry Gavin’s arms away from his throat. His mask has been knocked askew and is halfway around his face, obscuring his vision - a second later he steps on Princeton, still lying on the floor, and his feet fly out from under him. He lands heavily with another crash, knocks over a standing lamp and their television set, and sends dirt from the cactus’ pot flying all over the room.

“Take that!” Gavin cries, sprawled on the floor behind him, and starts pummelling the man’s shoulders with his fists. After a moment he seems to realise it’d be better to grab his arms and wrestle them behind his back. “Geoff, help me!”

“Holy shit,” Geoff mutters, and promptly sits down on top of the man, who’s lying sprawled on the floor struggling. “What do we do?”

“Take his bloody mask off!” Gavin says, and Geoff reaches out and wrestles the mask from the man’s face.

All three of them freeze.

For a moment Geoff has no idea what he’s looking at. A melting clown is the first thing that comes to mind.

There’s red, white and black paint smeared all over the man’s face. It might have been in some sort of design, once, but whatever it was has been smudged to all hell by his mask. It’s a young guy, somewhere between his age and Gavin’s. Confused blue eyes stare out at Geoff from the middle of the mess, making him falter.

“Oh my God,” Gavin says. “What is that?”

“What the fuck, dude,” Geoff adds. “You look like you came from a kid’s birthday party and they attacked you with finger paints!”

“Don’t laugh at me!” the man says, indignantly.

Geoff lifts up the mask and examines it. Now that the lights are on and he’s not fighting for his life, he realises it’s the sort of cheap, rubber thing that you’d buy for a Halloween party, not go around killing people in.

“Is this from the fucking dollar store?” he demands.

“Look,” the assassin replies, defensively. “I’m on a budget.”

And then, after a moment of stunned silence, “Ow.”

Gavin lets go and he reaches up and rubs his back where he fell. Geoff isn’t so trusting; he snatches up the gun from the coffee table, clicking off the safety and swinging it to point at the assassin. The man freezes, raising his hands slowly.

“Whoa, whoa, let’s talk about this peacefully,” he says. There’s something awkward about his deep voice, almost mumbling.

“Get out of the way, Gavin,” Geoff says, and Gavin scrambles to his feet and out of range of the gun. Truth be told, Geoff isn’t exactly confident in his own aim. He steps closer. It probably comes across as intimidating but honestly he wasn’t sure if he could even hit the guy from that far across the room. “Who sent you?”

“Anthony Falvo,” the assassin replies immediately. It’s quick enough that he didn’t have to think about it, but not so quick that Geoff thinks it was a lie. He lies enough himself that he can tell. He closes his eyes and lets out a curse - Falvo ran a gang that he screwed over a while back, selling them out to a bigger crew for brownie points. He thought they were dead.

“You’re the one who’s been trying to kill me all day,” he reasons, and turns to Gavin. “See, Gav, I fucking told you so!”

Gavin’s on his knees by the broken pot, mournfully attempting to salvage the cactus. It’s no use; the roots are broken everywhere amidst the shards of pottery. He looks up and stares accusingly at the assassin.

“You killed Princeton!” he cries.

The man actually looks _embarrassed_.

“I’m sorry,” he replies. “I didn’t mean to knock it over!”

Geoff stares at him. He really looks quite pathetic down there on the floor, shrunken into himself like a puppy that’s been scolded.

“I don’t even know who you are really,” he continues, staring up at Geoff. “Falvo just told me what you did and that he needed you dead. I don’t like doing this, man, I just… I owe people things and I’ve been dragged into this whole shitstorm and now I apparently have to pay off my debt by offing people. And you have messed with some _bad people_.”

“I’m starting to realise that,” Geoff says, tiredly. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair and the guy flinches at the movement.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asks. “I could just tell him I failed repeatedly and he’ll think I’m incompetent and find someone else.”

“Oh, _that_ solves all my problems,” Geoff points out. “No, you idiot, I don’t want him to hire a _better_ assassin! Then I might actually be dead!”

“Geoff.” Gavin’s sidled up, pulling at his sleeve. “He killed Princeton, Geoff.”

“I really am sorry,” the man mumbles. “I didn’t mean to, I just… windows are _really_ hard to climb through and I’m pretty sure I split my pants falling in here. I’m sorry. I’ll buy you another one.”

“This guy is a fucking clown,” Geoff says, and lowers the gun. He doesn’t know if he’d’ve had the balls to use it anyway. “Oh my God.”

“Sorry,” the guy says again, pitifully, and Geoff flaps an annoyed hand at him, crossing over to the adjoining kitchen and snatching the knife up from the floor on the way.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “What a fucking day.”

He sets about pouring himself a drink. Gavin’s returned to collecting the tragic remains of Princeton. After a moment the assassin picks himself off the floor and awkwardly hovers over him.

“I can do that, if you want,” he offers, and Gavin looks up at him.

“This cactus was my only friend growing up,” he says, mournfully. “My grandfather gave him to me when I was six years old. I used to talk to him when there was no one else to listen. After I ran away from my parents I brought him with me. When I had no human or animal to care for me, I had to resort to vegetable. I loved him like my own brother. And now you’ve _murdered him_.”  

“Oh, God,” the assassin says. He sounds mortified, and Geoff rolls his eyes and slams the whiskey bottle down hard enough to make them both look at him.

“He’s messing with you,” he says, and the assassin looks _relieved_. That in and of itself makes Geoff trust him. “Gav, go fetch a broom.”

Gavin pulls a face and wanders off into the apartment. After a moment the man crouches down and starts cleaning up.

“So Falvo sent the shittiest assassin in the world after me,” Geoff observes, wandering over to him with drink in hand. “I’m lucky you suck.”

The man peers up at him. He isn’t half bad looking, Geoff notes absently, under the mess of paint.

“I mean, killing someone isn’t exactly something you’d _want_ to be good at,” he replies, and Geoff raises an eyebrow.

“That’s a funny attitude for Achievement City,” he points out. “Especially from a hitman. Most people here don’t give a fuck about morals. They’ll kill someone soon as look at them. What’s your name?”

“Ryan,” the man replies. “And I’m not from here.”

“Clearly.”

Ryan shifts uncomfortably. He stands up, wiping dirt from his hands on the sides of his jeans. He steps forward but Geoff doesn’t back up, gazing at him calmly. He’s quickly figuring this guy out - reading people is a big part of what he does, after all - and it’s becoming steadily clearer that of the two of them, Geoff’s the one in control.

“Look,” Ryan says, stiffly. He gestures at his face. “I cover up because I… I don’t want this to be _me_ , you know? I told you, I don’t like taking hits. I’m in a bad way and I’m _stuck_ in this now and… it’s not getting easier. I didn’t ask to get tangled up in the mess I’m in but every time I try and get out of it I just end up even deeper.”

He looks suddenly very miserable, and Geoff heaves out a sigh and takes a sip of his drink.

“Clean this shit up, won’t you?” he orders, waving the glass around at the mess.

“Okay,” Ryan says softly. “I really am sorry. It’s nothing personal, y’know?”

“Stop apologising,” Geoff says. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Ryan bites his lip. Geoff turns and picks up the bottle again. He looks over to find Ryan setting the television and lamp upright.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks, abruptly, and Ryan glances up, his eyes wide and surprised.

“I don’t drink,” he replies, sounding almost _embarrassed_ , and Geoff stares at him.

“Oh my God,” is all he can say. Who _is_ this guy, seriously - he’s breaking all the rules of what Geoff expects from AC and _especially_ from the sort of people who find themselves hired to commit murder. Ryan’s standing there like a particularly tall and awkward piece of shitty modern artwork, and Geoff’s glad when Gavin sweeps in with a broom and saves him from the uncomfortable silence.

“You owe me a cactus,” he tells Ryan, accusingly, and hands him the broom and a dustpan.

“I’ll get you one,” Ryan says, quite sincerely. “Sorry about all this.”

“I told you to stop apologising,” Geoff says. Gavin comes over and hauls himself up to sit on the kitchen counter next to him before snatching the whiskey bottle and drinking straight from it.

Ryan looks hilarious in his black leather, hunched over the little broom sweeping the dirt into a pile. It’s fucking half past three in the morning. Geoff’s not quite sure how his life has reached this point.

“Is he old enough to drink?” Ryan asks after a moment, glancing at Gavin, who sneers at him and takes another swig.

“In England I am,” he says.

“But we’re not in England.”

“He’s close enough. You think there’s a legal drinking age in AC?” Geoff asks, tiredly. “There’s no legal anything.”

“Haaaa!” Gavin cries, and Geoff confiscates the bottle. Ryan’s staring between the two of them, bemused.

“Who are you two?” he asks. “Why are you going around double crossing gangs and getting hitmen sent after you? You’re right,” he adds, “Most people kill without a second thought. But you didn’t kill me, either.”

“Just getting by,” Geoff says. “Same as you.”

“Right. Well, you might wanna get by in a way that screws other people over less,” Ryan replies, methodically sweeping the room. It may or may not be the first time in over a year that the floor has felt the touch of a broom.

“You try and _kill people_ ,” Geoff points out incredulously. “By dropping _plants_ on them! Don’t criticise my life choices!”

“Look mate,” Gavin adds, “You need to improve the face paint. It’s not scary at all.”

“And your aim is shit,” Geoff snaps. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Right,” Ryan murmurs, looking quite embarrassed again. He finishes cleaning, deposits the mess in the bin - looking with clear disapproval at the empty beer bottles and noodle cups that it’s filled with - before turning back to them and shifting awkwardly. Geoff’s making more of his face out underneath the paint now.

He doesn’t look hard, the way a lot of people do here. Just tired.

“Can I… go?” Ryan asks, after an uneasy pause.

“What’ll you do if I say yes?” Geoff replies. The gun’s still on the counter next to him. Gavin has gone very silent.

Ryan gives a rather helpless shrug.

“Pretend you keep giving me the slip but that I’m still on it. That way he won’t send anyone else after you. He’ll give up, eventually - won’t find it worth the money or the time. Someone else will piss him off more. Or he’ll get killed, first.”

Geoff considers this. He looks at the gun, but he knows he won’t use it. He’s never killed someone before and he’s not about to start tonight. And what else can he do? Call the police?

And there’s something about Ryan that makes him think it’s okay. That the fumbling awkwardness is genuine. Maybe Geoff’s hinging his life on a gut instinct, here - but he’s gotten by on them so far.

“Fine,” he replies. “You can go.”

Ryan blinks slowly, seeming surprised. Then he jerks into action.

“Right. Um. Can I leave through the door or should I just…?” He gestures awkwardly at the window and Geoff can’t help but laugh, rolling his eyes. It’s been so long since he saw someone so damn untarnished by this city. It’s almost endearing.

He sweeps a hand out towards the door and Ryan looks relieved. He turns to go and Gavin titters with laughter, even Geoff snorting.

“Wow,” Geoff says. “You really did split your pants. Nice ass,” he adds, with a mocking wolf whistle.

Gavin’s cracking up, nearly falling off the counter in his fits of squeaking.

“You’ll need to get new jeans,” he exclaims, gleefully. “Maybe some that don’t make you look like a dad!”

“You guys are assholes,” Ryan says defensively, and leaves in a flustered rush.

The door shuts behind him with a resounding click, and their laughter falters away. In the silence that follows Geoff feels suddenly very tired; even if things turned out okay, even if by some stroke of fate the one assassin sent to kill him turned out to be a decent guy - he came very close to death today, more than once.

He and Gavin exchange a glance and sigh. There’s something too strained in Gavin’s face now, staring at the door after Ryan. Geoff touches his wrist.

“It’ll all be fine,” he murmurs.

Gavin smiles faintly. He gets up and goes over to the window and locks it. Then locks the door, too, and turns back to Geoff.

“I think we should get a dog,” he replies.

Geoff laughs, humourlessly, and pours himself another drink.

\---

It’s not that Geoff can’t take care of himself. It’s that he just prefers not to get into actual fights.

He’s spent his entire life in Achievement City. He’s seen where fighting gets you.

He’s seen his father work as hired muscle, flitting his way between different gangs whenever they need someone else beaten down. A violent man - brutish - too many blows to the head, over time, had messed him up.

His mother fought for money - underground cage fights, sponsored by the gangs of AC. She was good - one of the best, even, the champion of one of the city’s most dangerous syndicates - but not good enough, in the end.

When you solve your problems with violence, sooner or later you’ll come up against someone stronger than you.

So Geoff doesn’t like to fight, even if it’s probably been expected of him his whole life. He can throw a decent punch, and for the first few years of school he comes home with his share of bruised knuckles and bloodied lips from crossing the wrong kids.

And his fucking _school_ , man - it’s a miniature version of AC, pretty much. There are gangs and trades of all sorts going on - kids sorted into a hierarchy based on how dangerous their parents are. Teachers who _know_ that and can’t do a damn thing about disciplining them. The only thing Geoff learns from that hellpit is one very, very important thing: how to talk smart.

He makes his own offers and trades - buys himself protection with booze stolen from his father that gets him a leg in the door. And pretty soon people come to realise that if they want someone talked out of something, he’s the one to go to. The second he has leverage he exercises it, keeping himself safe, making himself _valuable_ while avoiding becoming roped into anyone else’s gang. He doesn’t want to be loyal to anybody. He wants to own things _himself_.

It’s not a hard decision to drop out and leave home. After his mother dies he doesn’t want to come home to just his dad, so at sixteen he gets out and starts working odd jobs. Nothing illegal - washing cars, working in service stations and corner shops - but he always has an eye on the criminal underworld. How can you not in AC, when it permeates everything, when you’re automatically at the mercy of whoever owns whatever part of the city you’re living in? Sometimes they’re good to you. Sometimes they aren’t. It all depends on what you can offer them.

It’s a lonely fucking existence, and he continues on with it for ten Goddamn years until eventually he’s working with crews more often than not, as their haggler and spokesperson. He has a gun, but he’s never had to use it. He’s good enough not to.

That’s when he finds Gavin.

He’s in a bar one evening when a kid picks someone’s pocket at a table nearby, gets caught and is about to get his shit kicked in when Geoff intervenes. He’s still not sure why except maybe Gavin reminds him too much of himself when he first left home.

At first he thinks Gavin’s a lot younger than he really is. He’s a tiny, scrawny thing and he certainly plays up the whole ‘innocent child’ spiel when he’s trying to convince Geoff not to call the cops, and then to buy him a meal, and then to let him sleep on his couch.

But he’s fiercely intelligent, Geoff realises almost immediately. It turns out he’s fifteen, just underfed and apparently waiting on a growth spurt. For all his silly questions, he’s sharp as a tack and already has Achievement City figured out. He’s also British - turns out he’s a runaway too - stole all he could back home, spent the entirety of it on a fake passport and a plane ticket, and has been living on the streets for the few weeks since he got here. He has quick fingers, even if he got caught back there.

Geoff isn’t sure why he takes him in. Maybe because he can see Gavin’s got nowhere else to go. Maybe because even ten years alone in this place hasn’t completely robbed him of a heart.

The kid robs him blind the first night Geoff takes him home - slips out in the middle of the night with all Geoff’s silverware, the money that he had hidden in stashes around his apartment, and most of the contents of his fridge. Then he brings it all back the next day, presumably having felt _bad_ about it, and sheepishly suggests that maybe he could rob other people instead and share the spoils in exchange for a roof over his head.

He has no one in this city. Geoff has no one too. He thinks that’s maybe why he agrees.

And that’s the beginning of it - Gavin’s such a good thief that suddenly Geoff sees a future for them. A vision, of sorts. It’s a silly idea at first, but he tells it to Gavin one night on drunken impulse and the kid is _enraptured_ , and suddenly it’s not just a stupid fantasy. It’s a dream, _the_ dream, and it’s addictive.

They can get to the top.

He knows intimately by now the main players in the AC game. And they’re smart, and strong, and have a hell of a lot of money and weapons at their disposal.

But they’re not good people. They don’t have friends, don’t have proper _allies_ \- and that means they can be turned on each other. With Gavin, Geoff can get money. With money, he can buy his own weapons. They can work their way up.

Eventually.

For now they’re mostly focused on not getting evicted. Geoff’s not cut out to be a parent - his own weren’t exactly stellar, after all - and Gavin claims he can take care of himself, but like fuck it doesn’t age Geoff another ten years suddenly having a kid to take care of. Now he’s left trying to feed two of them, to keep Gavin out of trouble at least for a couple of years until he’s an actual adult.

And it doesn’t always work - he can’t keep Gavin under control, not when he’s such a wild card and compelled to prove himself at every given opportunity. There’s been more than enough times that Geoff freaks out wondering if he’ll find him dead somewhere come morning.

But Gavin’s stronger than he looks. He always returns home. It _becomes_ home for him, soon enough - the closer they get, the more careful he is, seeming to realise that living with Geoff isn’t just mutually beneficial for sharing money and rent.

The second that switch flips and he starts _trusting_ Geoff, it’s like things escalate until Geoff’s pretty sure they couldn’t live without each other. Maybe Gavin just needs someone to take care of him - maybe Geoff needs something to be living _for_ , his dreams of building up an empire having a better end now. Someone to _share_ it with.

They’ve both been alone too long and now he has someone to play video games with, drink with, laugh over shitty movies with. Gavin’s a precocious little thing, especially at first - full of wild ideas, reckless and stubborn and a bit of an asshole. Skittish too, careful about who he trusts, closing off at random moments.

But over five years Geoff watches him mature - watches him get _smarter_ , sharper, under someone who actually encourages him. Gavin starts to care about other people the same way Geoff does - picks who he steals from more carefully, realises who they can take care of in return for favours later on. And he starts looking at Geoff with stars in his fucking eyes, an admiration Geoff’s never had before but that makes him feel like this can work. Maybe he can lead something.

And the dream is something they hold onto, constantly.

_We’ll be rich._

_We’ll run this city_.

He doesn’t like to think of himself as Gavin’s father. He’s never liked fathers.

But an older brother - _that_ he can do, and right now Gavin’s the only person in the city who he properly trusts and cares for. He hopes they’ll find others - that’s part of the plan - but it seems a long way away, and he doesn’t think much of it yet. They’re still getting there.

When you’re saddled at twenty five with a teenage kid, you don’t exactly have a lot of time for getting close to anyone else. Not to mention everyone else Geoff’s met in this fucking city has only been in it for themselves. Maybe there’s still occasionally a faint, lonely ache inside.

Maybe, sometimes, it feels like something’s missing.

\---

It’s three months before Geoff sees Ryan again.

No one comes back and tries to kill him, so he assumes Ryan was telling the truth and he’s in the clear. Someone does leave a cactus outside their door - it’s the wrong sort, one of the long skinny ones, but Gavin accepts it anyway and christens it Edgar.

Geoff thinks about him now and then. Mostly because he’s worried another plant will fall from the fucking sky and kill him. But when he’s not concerned about falling vegetation, the other man fades clear from his mind, just another close call in Achievement City.

At least until the day he’s sent to a conference and once again finds himself in a situation where he may have bitten off more than he can chew.

He left Glasgow a while back. Now he’s with a new crew, sent to negotiate a deal buying a tank from a man called Decker, who masquerades as a businessman but is as corrupt as everyone else out here.

They meet at a small office in the city. Geoff’s dressed sharply, in a suit and bow tie, hair slicked back, moustache curled at the edges. It’s all about looking in control.

He has two men from the crew with him for protection, and when they arrive Decker’s waiting with his own bodyguards. They’re all in masks - Decker’s wearing sunglasses, and this location was carefully chosen to be away from anyone who might recognise him - and one of the men is wearing a familiar black skull. Geoff stiffens as soon as he sees him.

It’s definitely Ryan.

He knows because the other man straightens up, recognising him too. Geoff can’t see his eyes behind the mask, can’t tell what he’s thinking. Obviously he’s not with Falvo anymore - Decker’s a hell of a step up; he’s one of the biggest names in weapons deals.

Geoff’s eyes skim over the skull, but he doesn’t acknowledge Ryan. As soon as he steps into the room he’s completely focused on Decker - a charming smile, a firm handshake, before launching straight into his spiel. He’s halfway through smoothtalking the guy into a deal when everything goes to shit.

When the door opens, everyone jumps. And then freezes when the Corpirate steps into the conference room, flanked by a dozen heavily armed guards.

“Hello,” he says, pleasantly.

A shiver runs down Geoff’s spine. He’s seen the man on billboards all over the city, on the news and in the papers - he’s rich and powerful and the top dog in Achievement City. To finally see him in person, and _unexpectedly_ , makes his stomach drop.

People say he lost his eye in a knife fight. People say a rival businesswoman cornered him one night, sucked it out and fucking _ate it_. People say he cut it out himself as part of a satanic ritual - literally making a deal with the devil in order to run the city.

Geoff isn’t sure what he believes. Gavin reckons he still has an eye under there and he just wants to surprise people with it one day.

If the purpose is intimidation, it’s fucking working. The Corpirate’s the biggest, baddest man in the city and everyone in the room looks terrified.

“Corpirate,” Decker greets, hesitantly.

Geoff steps back from the table, not wanting to be part of this.

“Decker,” the Corpirate says. He steps into the room, his men moving in around them. Geoff discreetly looks for an escape route. The door’s on the opposite side of the table, but there’s a window behind him. Problem is, they’re on the second storey.

“I think you owe me some money,” the Corpirate continues. “A lot of money, actually. What’s this I hear about a tank?”

Decker licks his lips nervously. His four bodyguards are shifting, clearly wishing they were the Corpirate’s guards instead. Geoff glances at Ryan, who has one hand on his gun.

“We’re in the middle of a deal,” Decker says, and nods at Geoff, who dies a little inside _-_ “It’ll be his tank in a minute.”

Well, fuck.

The Corpirate’s single eye turns to Geoff, who holds his gaze steadily, even if his chest has gone tight and he thinks he might throw up. The man looks at him for a long moment, then his lips twitch and he turns back to Decker.

“I don’t think so,” he replies, pleasantly. “I think you’ll give me the tank, as well as however much money you were gonna get for it.”

Decker opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. The Corpirate steps towards him.

“Now tell me,” he continues, “Who’s your right hand? Is it that charming red haired woman I saw last time I invited you to one of my dinners? Happier times, weren’t they.”

Decker’s gone pale. Geoff glances at the two guards from his own crew. Both of them look like they’d rather be anywhere except here.

“That’s your business partner, right?” The Corpirate croons. “Decker and Lam. You run the company together. So I should be able to negotiate everything I want with her once you’re out of the picture. You have to make an example, see.”

“Please,” Decker begins, but doesn’t get the rest of his sentence out before the Corpirate steps aside and one of his men shoots Decker in the head.

Maybe that would’ve been the end of it, if one of Decker’s bodyguards hadn’t opened fire in some misguided attempt at either protection or self defence. The second he starts shooting, all the rest of the guards start as well, and Geoff barely manages to throw himself under the table as suddenly there’s gunfire ringing out all around him.

 _Shit,_ is his main thought. _Shit on my fucking nipples._

He pulls his own gun out but stays down, heart pounding, so scared he can’t think straight - quite certain that he’s about to die - when suddenly someone ducks down next to him and he swings the gun around.

“Hey!”

It’s Ryan’s voice - he raises his hands and Geoff lowers the gun, trembling. He hears the thud of a body falling nearby - flinches - stares into the black eyes of the skull mask but somehow feels safer than he did before.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ryan hisses, and grabs Geoff’s arm, hauling him out from under the table.

Geoff opens his mouth to protest, unsure what the plan is - but Ryan has an iron grip on his arm and the next thing he knows the other man is firing at the window, then striding forward and kicking the glass hard. It shatters and barely a second later he’s yanking Geoff after him as he leaps out.

Geoff screams.

They’re on the second storey but the ground seems like it’s miles away as suddenly they’re falling. His stomach plummets and the road below speeds towards them in a rush-

But at some point, Ryan’s tugged him close against his side, holding him tightly, and they land with a crashing thud on the roof of a van parked in the road. The wind’s knocked out of Geoff as he slams against hard metal and falls away from Ryan, rolling off the roof of the van and falling another few metres onto the hard road. He hears a car rush by and shudders, gasping and trying to get a breath in, dizzy as he stares up at the bright sky above him. Everything hurts. He can still hear gunshots, barely taking them in.

“Geoff,” someone groans, and he forces himself to sit up, pushing the pain aside. His side hurts, he’s grazed and sore-

And Ryan is stumbling to his feet next to him. He’s bleeding, Geoff notices absently, and clutching one arm - the roof of the van is horribly dented, and there are still shots coming from the building next to them.

But they’re alive.

They’re alive and they’re out and he can’t really believe it, and for a moment when he hears sirens start to wail in the distance he thinks he must be dreaming.

“Geoff!” Ryan snaps again, and Geoff jerks as he realises the sirens are getting louder.

“Shit,” he hisses.

“Shit’s about right,” Ryan says, and grabs his arm again. There are already police cars speeding around the corner and Geoff jolts into action, wrapping an arm around Ryan as they stumble out of the street.

“Come on, come on,” he says - he isn’t sure who’s supporting who here, but Ryan seems to be steering them somewhere. “Where are we going?”

“Car,” Ryan says - they’re approaching what’s presumably the one he arrived in with Decker’s other guards. And then, “My place, near here.”

Geoff glances over his shoulder. The street is swarmed with police - they must’ve been nearby and heard the shots - they don’t have much time. He’s still dizzy from the fall and the fear, and when Ryan opens the car door he slumps into the seat without complaining.

To Ryan’s place it is, then.

\---

“Fuck,” Geoff hisses, as the fabric of his shirt sticks to the bloody grazes down his side. The skin’s scraped clear off where he fell against the road. It hurts, but he’s just glad to be alive.

“Okay?” Ryan asks, and Geoff jumps.

Ryan’s just limped into the room again, setting a first aid kit on the kitchen counter. It’s surreally quiet here - with sunlight streaming through the windows and everything calm and silent outside, Geoff feels like he’s still dreaming. Like he died jumping out that window and he’s in some strangely domestic afterlife.

But Ryan is here with  him, bloody and bruised. That grounds him a little, and he nods, reaching for a washcloth. He cleans his wounds, not looking at the other man, and plasters a bandage over the worst of the grazes.

He’ll live.

He hasn’t broken anything - he prods his ribs to check, but he’s pretty sure they’re only bruised. He looks up to find Ryan watching him - his mask is off, and he’s washed his paint away. He looks strangely mundane with his face clean, inscrutable blue eyes fixed intently on Geoff.

Suddenly self conscious, he pulls his shirt back on.

“I think I need your help,” Ryan says eventually, a little embarrassed. “My arm really hurts.”

“Shit, dude. You get shot?”

“Maybe?” Ryan offers, weakly, and Geoff gives him an incredulous look. He helps him struggle out of his shirt, feeling bad when he winces. There’s a deep graze across Ryan’s bicep, leaking trickles of dark blood down his arm, but the bullet didn’t actually go through.

“That need stitches?” Geoff asks, and Ryan looks down and bites his lip.

“I… don’t think so?”

“What, never been shot before?” Geoff asks, and Ryan shakes his head.

“No. Have you?”

“You were the first person to ever actually shoot _at_ me,” Geoff mutters, turning away to grab a new washcloth. “Until today.”

“Oh.”

“One could say you took my being-shot-at-virginity,” Geoff continues, running it under warm water and crossing back over to him. “Popped the gunfire cherry, so to speak.”

“I honestly have no response to any of this,” Ryan begins, then lets out a muffled noise of pain when Geoff presses the cloth to his arm. “ _Shit_ , that hurts.”

“Being dead would hurt more,” Geoff says cheerfully.

“I’m… pretty sure it wouldn’t?” Ryan grits his teeth as Geoff wipes the blood away before grabbing antiseptic and bandages. He works methodically, patching the worst of the wound up before tending to the scrapes on Ryan’s side.

“Jumping out a window does a number on you, it turns out,” he murmurs, and Ryan hums in agreement. Geoff leans around him to stick down the end of a bandage. It’s about that point that he realises his face is inches away from a very muscular, very naked torso. His dick registers the fact at about the same time. Traitor. He tells himself it’s the adrenaline.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he steps back. Ryan’s staring at him, blissfully unaware that Geoff may or may not be suddenly realising that he’s pretty good looking when he isn’t dressed up like a supervillain on a thrift store budget. Or, y’know, when he’s shirtless.

“You should be just fine,” he says, a bit too quickly, and turns away to run a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I know you don’t drink, but _please_ tell me you’ve got alcohol somewhere.”

“Top cabinet,” Ryan replies, and Geoff busies himself pouring a drink. He offers the bottle to Ryan, but the other man shakes his head. He’s perched on the edge of the counter, and there’s something endearing about how he looks leaning there with his hair all dishevelled, a few stray traces of paint smudged around his chin and cheeks.

“So. You were with Decker, then?” Geoff asks. He feels better with a shot of alcohol in him.

Ryan nods. “Yeah. Falvo died a while back. Decker took him out. I thought I was clear, but nope - he said anyone who was with Falvo could come work for him instead or he’d off us as well. So once again I was stuck. Hopefully _now_ I’m free.”

“Sucks, dude.” The only thing worse than being part of the misery machine that is AC is being _forced_ to be part of it. It’s why Geoff avoids contracts that run more than a month or so.

Ryan shrugs, lips twitching.

“Didn’t think I’d run into you again. What are you up to now? Still getting yourself on people’s hit lists?”

“Trying not to. Today was a fuckfest.” He pours himself another glass and sighs. “That Corpirate’s a piece of work.”

“You’re telling me.” Ryan’s face twists and he moves to sit on one of the kitchen stools. There’s a long silence as they both seem to finally get their breath back.

“Thanks, by the way,” Geoff says. Ryan looks up at him, and he gives a faint smile. “For getting me out. Don’t know what I’d’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”

“Oh. It’s nothing.”

“No, I mean it. Most people would’ve saved their own ass and not given a fuck. But you didn’t. You really are something else, Ryan.”

Ryan shrugs, looking away.

“You spared my life. So I saved yours. Guess we’re even now. And like I said, I’m not from here. I don’t ever want to start playing by this city’s messed up rules.”

“You can’t avoid it for long,” Geoff replies quietly.

Ryan raises an eyebrow.

“And you? Seems like you don’t play by the rules either. You didn’t kill me when you could have.”

“I’m rewriting the rules,” Geoff informs him. “Or planning to, anyway. You don’t need violence to get by, here. Or that’s the idea.”

Ryan looks upset, suddenly. His fingers drum anxiously against the counter and Geoff wonders what he said.

“Just because someone else does it for you,” Ryan says abruptly, “Doesn’t mean your hands are clean.”

It feels like Geoff’s been hit. He lives a fairly guilt-free existence, not caring much about the people he screws over. After all, he never fired the gun. After all, they brought it on themselves. But there’s something chastising in Ryan’s voice that has him suddenly defensive.

“How many people have you killed?” he shoots back. But that’s the question that makes Ryan’s face go hard. He rises and starts packing the first aid kit away with jerking, abrupt motions.

Geoff’s sorry he asked. He’s not usually sorry about anything much. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything - can _apologise_ , even - Ryan turns to him again.

“Who was that kid back at your place?” he asks instead, and Geoff blinks a few times, surprised by the change in topic.

“Gavin?” he asks, cautiously. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Ryan admits, turning away and fiddling with his bread bin. Seriously, who owns a _bread bin_? “About you guys and… y’know. Who you are. I suppose no one trusts anyone else here, do they?”

Geoff stares at him. But the funny thing is, he _does_ trust Ryan. He believes he’s just curious. After all, the other man has saved his life twice now, albeit the first time was only by ceasing his attempts to actively murder him.

“He’s my brother,” he replies. “And a hell of a good pickpocket.”

“Is he really?” Ryan asks, sounding shocked.

“Not in blood,” Geoff explains, and shrugs. “In the ways that actually matter.”

“That’s nice,” Ryan says, softly, and Geoff smiles.

Ryan’s staring at him, and normally Geoff is pretty certain of what people see when they look at him. He knows the image he projects - confident, implacable, a bit of a sarcastic shit. But Ryan is _different_. He doesn’t look at people to judge whether he can take them in a fight, or what he can get out of them. Suddenly Geoff feels unpleasantly unsure of himself, wondering exactly what the other man’s seeing in him.

He knows what he’s seeing in Ryan. Someone unexpectedly _innocent_ \- someone who might have killed, but doesn’t have the same stains on his conscience that most everyone else here does. Someone he feels almost protective of, because you don’t see much of that in AC. It gets sullied soon enough.

“What will you do now?” he asks, and Ryan shakes himself and looks away.

“I have no idea,” he admits. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Geoff says. Now that the Corpirate’s involved, like fuck he’s gonna stay with this gang where he might get tracked down. “Find new work. Earn money. Feed my family.”

“Family,” Ryan murmurs, almost sadly.

“Family of two,” Geoff says, and sighs. “I should go. Thanks for letting me patch up here.”

Ryan just smiles. He looks worn down and tired and _shaken_ , just like Geoff is. They could’ve been killed today. There’s an odd closeness that comes from skirting so close to death with someone. He reaches out on impulse and squeezes Ryan’s shoulder. The other man’s bare skin is warm to touch and he leans into Geoff’s hand, eyes closing for a moment. The same fierce protectiveness he always feels with Gavin rises up, suddenly. He wants to say something, but doesn’t know what.

“See you around,” he settles on, and Ryan huffs out something like a laugh.

“I hope so,” he says genuinely, and Geoff feels too flustered suddenly. He pulls back and leaves quickly before he does something stupid.

\---

Geoff doesn’t tell Gavin what happened. He isn’t sure why. He watches the other man come sauntering in with handfuls of jewellery and a stack of fat wallets he lifted from rich kids at uni. Listens to him laugh, and chatter about his day, and lets it warm him where he feels frozen inside.

He needs another job.

He needs money, and he needs to not get himself fucking killed because who will take care of Gavin, and he needs to be _stronger_ because there are some situations you _can’t_ talk yourself out of, maybe.

He feels out of his depth for the first time in a long time. He doesn’t want to worry Gavin, he thinks, that’s why he doesn’t tell him. But it’s deeper than that. Telling someone makes it real. _I nearly died._

 _We all could die, every second we’re here, every second we’re involved. That’s the risk of trying for the dream. Things don’t come free. Even if you don’t kill, others kill for you. You take lives to get on top. That’s the only way_.

He doesn’t want to darken what they have here. The _hope_.

He sits and watches Gavin and feels cold and the other man must know something is up, because his chatter falters. But he doesn’t pry - knows not to - just comes and sits quietly next to Geoff and curls up against his side. They pass a bottle of whiskey between them and Geoff hopes this will pass. It has to.

\---

He returns to Ryan’s house three days later.

He isn’t sure why. Just that he hasn’t found a new job yet, and he wakes from dreams of gunfire, and he needs someone else to _understand_.

It’s stupid. If he wants to get to the top he’s gonna get shot at a hell of a lot more than he already has been. Ryan won’t be the first person sent to kill him. He _knows_ this, but he’s been cruising along on his silver tongue for years now and it’s like he’s hit the steep learning curve of surviving in AC all over again.

He shows up - only to freeze halfway down the street when he sees nothing but a smouldering wreck where Ryan’s apartment block used to be.

The horror that swells in his chest is acute, piercing - _unfamiliar_. He stumbles down the street and pauses in front of the scene. It’s roped off with police tape but there’s no one around. Just the burned out husk of a building, collapsed in on itself and mostly gone. The street is desolate - the neighbouring buildings didn’t quite emerge unscathed.

“Ryan.” His fingers clench on the fence and he wonders what happened - if it was an accident, or an _attack_ , if it was Ryan they were after or just something he got caught up in. “Fuck… holy shit, _fuck_.”

He might not be dead.

The shock passes. He thinks about it logically. He doesn’t know what happened here. He turns, slowly, and makes his way back to the car, something tight and unpleasant in his chest.

\---

“Yeah, someone tried to kill me,” Ryan says, far too casually. Then takes a sip of his beer, because apparently _this_ has scared him into alcoholism even if nothing else could. He sputters a second later, pulling a horrible face. “Okay, no, that still tastes really gross.”

Geoff stares at him over the bar table. He isn’t quite sure what he’s feeling. Overwhelmingly relieved, sure, but he isn’t sure _why_ he’s so affected, and that makes him uncomfortably vulnerable. He buries his face in his own glass.

He recognised Ryan’s car in the shopping district a few streets away. A car he’s now apparently living in, with the handful of belongings he salvaged.

“It was you they were after?”

Ryan nods.

“Don’t see why they had to take the whole damn building with me. I suppose they thought they were being thorough. It was the Corpirate’s men,” he adds. “They’re after everyone who was with Decker. I guess they need to clean up after themselves. Make sure I don’t go to the police.”

Geoff snorts.

“He _owns_ the police,” he points out, and Ryan shrugs.

“Like I said. Being thorough. But they think I’m dead. I should be fine now. And I doubt they’ll come after you.”

“You’d better lay low for a while, dude,” Geoff grumbles finally. It comes out too worried, because Ryan gives him a curious look. He seems oddly unruffled for someone who nearly got flame grilled in his own home, but Geoff thinks maybe he’s just hiding it.

“That’s the plan,” he says, and sighs. “I need a place to live, first. Can’t sleep in my car for too much longer.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” Geoff murmurs, but the idea’s already in his head and he blurts it out without thinking about it. “You pay some rent, you can crash on my couch if you want.”

Ryan goes very silent. Geoff feels flustered, suddenly. Like he’s made a fool of himself. But he holds Ryan’s gaze steadily.

“I tried to kill you once,” Ryan points out, slowly. “We barely know each other.”

“Water under the bridge,” Geoff replies. “Besides, you saved my life. I still owe you one, by my count. And we could do with someone else pitching in on the rent.”

“That would be nice,” Ryan says, a bit uncertainly. “You sure about this?”

“‘course I’m sure,” Geoff says, far more confidently than he actually feels. It’s worth it when Ryan gives a relieved smile, and Geoff grins back and reaches out to steal the rest of his beer.

\---

“Why?” demands Gavin, when he gets home that evening to find Ryan and his bag of salvaged belongings in their living room. He literally freezes in the doorway, eyes wide.

“His house burned down,” Geoff replies, leaning in from the kitchen. “He’s gonna crash here for a bit. Don’t worry, it’s not for free.”

Gavin stares at Ryan, who stares back. It appears that he had no problem with the guy breaking in at three in the morning, but now that they’re _not_ in some absurd situation and it’s a permanent arrangement, all his wariness has kicked back in.

“But you’re the guy what tried to kill Geoff,” he points out.

“I also saved his life,” Ryan replies, only for Gavin to stare at Geoff in confusion. Ryan falters, unsure. “You, uh… didn’t tell him about that?”

“We can trust him,” Geoff assures Gavin. He steps forward, but Gavin turns away and marches into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

“Um,” Ryan says. “Maybe you two should’ve discussed this first.”

“It’s fine,” Geoff replies softly. “He’ll come around.”

\---

Gavin spends the entire night, and the next day, slinking around the apartment like a scared cat. He lurks in doorways, vanishing when Ryan turns to look at him - sidles around the sides of rooms to avoid getting near him, and refuses to eat dinner at the same time as them.

“He has issues,” Geoff informs Ryan on the first night. He knows Gavin will warm up to him eventually - it’s probably just a shock suddenly having someone new here.

“I can leave if you want,” Ryan murmurs, staring at Gavin’s bedroom door. There’s something pitiful in it, and Geoff shakes his head.

“It’s okay. He’ll be fine once he gets to know you.”

“ _You_ barely know me,” Ryan points out, and Geoff bites his lip.  

“Yeah, well,” is his very comprehensive response. Ryan still looks worried, and Geoff reaches out and bops him on the arm. “I’ll talk to him.”

\---

Gavin’s having a full blown sulk in his room. Honestly, it’s overdue. Even in the nightmarish teenage years he was never really _moody_ \- headstrong, yes, and possessed of that particular ineffable rebelliousness that makes everyone between the ages of thirteen and seventeen believe that they’re right about everything and everyone else is merely out to get them. Geoff’s been there, done that himself. But Gavin tended to work out his issues by stealing things to make himself feel better. Not lying face-down on his bed and locking the door.

“I know how to pick a lock too, asshole,” Geoff calls from outside.

Gavin ignores him.

“I’ve got vodka,” Geoff tries next.

The door cracks open and Gavin peers through, searching the dark living room behind Geoff.

“Is _he_ still here,” he hisses, and Geoff rolls his eyes. It’s been an entire day now. Ryan went out - job-hunting, he claims - but now he’s back and wiped out on the couch. Gavin was out all day too, carefully timing his movements to avoid the other man.

“He’s asleep,” he says, and lifts up the bottle. Gavin snatches it and attempts to slam the door - Geoff’s faster, getting a foot in and forcing it open again. Gavin makes a half-hearted attempt to push him out but Geoff shoves past him easily and barges into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Their flat is tiny but they’re lucky enough to have individual rooms. And they’ve lived here for long enough that it’s become _their_ space - Gavin has posters up, and a lot of things he’s proud of stealing displayed around the room. Stupid things, ranging from a sculpture from some reception area to some ancient tablet from the university’s museum. That one’s probably worth a lot but Geoff’s not sure who the fuck would buy it. That might be the sort of thing Ryan knows, he thinks vaguely as he glances over to look at it on Gavin’s bookshelf, where it’s resting against a Halo figurine.

“I’m sorry,” he says, first off. “I should have asked you before asking him to stay with us.”

“Yes, Geoffrey, you bloody should’ve.” Gavin throws himself onto his desk chair and swigs straight from the bottle. “What’d he mean the other day, he saved your life?”

Geoff hesitates. Then holds out his hand for the bottle, takes a drink himself, and sits on the bed with a sigh. Quietly, he tells Gavin what happened with the Corpirate. How close he came to death. How Ryan saved him.

Gavin listens in silence. When Geoff finishes and looks up, his face is unreadable.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers finally.

“I was scared,” Geoff admits, and reaches up, running his hands through his hair with a groan. “We’re _starting_ , Gavin. The dream. We’re getting there, I’m working with bigger and bigger crews. It’s gonna start happening more. There might be a day I don’t come back-”

“Don’t say that,” Gavin chokes out, horrified.

“I have to. It’s true. It’s a risk we need to take if we… if we _want_ this. And I knew that all along, just - it’s actually started now. I’m not used to it yet.”

Gavin looks away, jaw clenching. After a moment his face softens into something more upset.

“I get it,” he says quietly. “Not all the jobs I do are safe.”

There’s a lot Gavin does that he doesn’t tell Geoff about. Geoff nods, passing the bottle back to him.

“I know. But Ryan… it feels different with him. I think we can trust him. And you know I don’t say that easily. But I took a chance on you, all those years ago. I want to take one on him too.”

Gavin looks down at the bottle, turning it slowly between his hands.

“He’s not replacing me,” he says suddenly, fiercely. “He’d make a terrible thief. He couldn’t even break into our flat without waking you up.”

“Oh my God.” It hits Geoff suddenly, what this is about - he figured it was just Gavin’s trust issues coming into play. “Christ, kid, no one’s _replacing_ you. You’re one of a fucking kind.”

“Good,” Gavin says, but there’s something too vulnerable in it, and Geoff gets up and yanks him up off the chair into a hug. Gavin gives a startled sort of squeak, half-heartedly pushing at Geoff. “Stop. I’m not jealous.”

“You don’t need to be.” Geoff squeezes him closer and eventually Gavin relaxes into his chest, wrapping his arms around Geoff’s waist and leaning all his slight weight onto him. Geoff supports him easily, rocking them back and forth. “No one’s replacing anyone. We need more allies, Gavin - building up that crew, remember? But you’ll always be the first.”

“Don’t forget it,” Gavin grumbles, and Geoff laughs and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

\---

Ryan surprises them with breakfast the next morning. It’s certainly something to wake up to the smell of frying bacon - Geoff thinks he’s dreaming. The last time Gavin tried to surprise him he set off an alarm and the entire building had to evacuate. He stumbles into the kitchen to find Ryan standing at the stove, his hair sleep-tousled. He’s in one of Geoff’s shirts - most of his clothes were destroyed in the fire (an unfortunate turn of events that Geoff can’t quite bring himself to feel sorry for). Geoff’s breath catches when Ryan looks over his shoulder and smiles, somehow managing to be the physical embodiment of _dazzling_.

Someone who tried to kill him should not be so good looking. It’s _unfair_. He doesn’t have to know Ryan well to be aware of how attractive he is. Objectively speaking.

“Hi,” Ryan says brightly.

Geoff dies a little inside. In a good way. In a way that’s a bit _too_ good. He’s never been self conscious before but suddenly all he’s aware of is that he’s unshaven and still in his boxers.

“Hey,” he replies, and makes an effort to smooth his hair down. He’s pretty sure he only makes it worse. Shit.

“Is this okay?” Ryan asks, gesturing with his spatula. The eggs are sizzling and spitting in the pan and it’s the best sound Geoff’s ever heard. “I hope it is, I figured I’d make you guys something before you go out.”

Geoff still doesn’t have a job yet. He’s been scouting out crews to work with.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s great,” he replies. “Thank you. Do you need help?”

“No, I’m nearly done.” Ryan turns back to the stove and Geoff sits at the kitchen counter, watching him. “What time does Gavin normally wake up?”

“It depends. Usually pretty early.” It’s possible that Geoff’s a bit hungover from the drinks he had in Gavin’s room last night. He rubs his eyes and tries to look a bit more awake by the time Ryan switches the gas off and efficiently plates everything up, somehow having managed to time his cooking with the toast popping up and the kettle boiling. Fucking magical.

“That smells so fucking good, dude,” Geoff says, as Ryan slides a plate in front of him. He pokes the egg with a fork and yolk spills over the plate like liquid gold. He may or may not moan a little.

Ryan laughs.

“Coffee?” he asks.

“Please.”

“I’m guessing neither of you cook much,” Ryan chuckles, passing Geoff a mug. They have a lot of mugs, from many different places. A grand total of two of them were actually purchased with money.

“When we can afford to, I try,” Geoff says. “But yeah, we’re normally too lazy. I should try to more though. Nutrition and all that.”

He cuts into his food and takes two bites with Ryan watching him expectantly. Words cannot express.

“You can stay,” he announces, with his eyes closed and chewing dramatically.

Ryan laughs and starts eating as well. Geoff opens his eyes and finds the other man looking up at him from across the counter with a little smile. He grins back and Ryan’s eyes dart away almost shyly, his fork toying with his food.

Oh, Geoff is fucked.

“What’s all this?” a voice calls, and they glance over to find Gavin hovering nearby. He looks half asleep, his hair completely flat on one side and sticking out on the other like he’s had an electric shock.

“There’s a plate for you here,” Ryan replies softly, smiling as he gestures at the seat next to Geoff.

Gavin eyes him suspiciously, then looks at Geoff, who stares back at him encouragingly. _Come on,_ he thinks. He can’t blame Gavin for being wary, honestly. From everything Geoff’s heard - or figured out, in bits and pieces - about his life before he came to America, it’s not surprising that he finds it hard to trust people.

But when Geoff starts eating again, Gavin inches forward and sits next to him. Ryan’s smile widens.

“Good,” Geoff says, passing Gavin a fork. “Put some meat on those bones.”

Gavin takes a cautious bite, looks comically surprised at how good it is, and then starts eating in earnest. Geoff rolls his eyes and commences telling Ryan some stories of Gavin’s thefts - as he expected, Gavin chimes in now and then to correct him or add to the story, unable to help himself, and Ryan listens with rapt interest. Before long they’re laughing together as Gavin gets excited about having someone new to tell all his daring exploits to, and Geoff sits back to watch them.

Something terribly fond swells in his chest to look at Ryan leaning forward, listening intently, Gavin gesticulating wildly as he explains one of his more unbelievable stories with his mouth full, his previous reservations forgotten.

 _This can work_ , Geoff thinks.

\---

Ryan and Gavin start getting along much better after that.

Bless Ryan, seriously. He has the patience of a fucking saint and is so genuinely committed to letting Gavin take his time that if Geoff didn’t already trust him, that would’ve solidified it.

Gavin steals from him a number of times in the first few weeks, but Ryan takes in stride, seeming to realise that the other man is testing him. Pretty soon Gavin gets bored of that game and starts reverse-pickpocketing Ryan instead, planting ridiculous things into his pockets and backpack. Ryan keeps everything he gives him - adds stupid keyrings to his keychain, wears the gaudy gold jewellery Gavin leaves on him. Laughs at the condoms and tries to slip them back to Gavin without him noticing.

Geoff’s relieved when Gavin’s teasing gets more playful and less like he’s trying to annoy Ryan into leaving. He’s not sure what he’d’ve done if the two of them didn’t end up getting along.

“You need to do chores around here,” Gavin orders Ryan one night, as though he and Geoff don’t already live in squalor and their place hasn’t gotten fifty times cleaner since Ryan arrived. “You’re in charge of watering and telling Edgar a bedtime story. You have to breathe on him, too. Twenty times every morning and evening, so that he grows big from the carbon dioxide. _Science_ , Ryan.”

“Sure thing,” is all Ryan says, and then fucking goes ahead and _does it_ as Gavin watches incredulously.

“You look like a fool,” he says, as Ryan stands there huffing and puffing at the cactus. “Do you do everything people tell you?”

“I’m staying in your flat, it’s the least I can do,” Ryan points out.

Gavin warms up to him after that. All three of them start eating together and Ryan chimes in on Gavin’s ridiculous questions, leading to bickering that if anything seems to bring the two of them closer together. When Ryan starts coming back from his job - washing cars, at least for now - with dinner for them, that appears to win Gavin over completely. Apparently all it took was free food.

\---

“What’s going on here?” Geoff demands, when he walks in one evening to find a fucking _knife_ stuck in his wall and Gavin with his arm raised ready to throw another.

Ryan’s beside him, and the two of them spin around like guilty children.

“Ryan’s bloody terrifying,” Gavin declares. “Show him!”

Ryan looks suddenly bashful.  
  
“It’s just something stupid I learned at college,” he mumbles, walking forward and working the knife out of the wall. Gavin raises his own and Geoff darts forward and grabs his arm.

“ _No_ , no, no, you are not teaching him to do that,” he says sternly.

“I was bad at it anyway,” Gavin grumbles, folding his arms. “Show him, Ryan!”

Ryan looks hesitant, but when Geoff turns to him expectantly he whips the knife at the wall. It  sticks there, quivering. Geoff’s mouth drops open. He’s not impressed by the knife so much as Ryan’s speed, form, the way the muscles in his arm flexed.

“Just a silly trick,” Ryan says.

“A silly trick you could _kill someone_ with!” Gavin cries, and Ryan’s smile falters a little, the usual guilt flickering across his face. Geoff shakes himself, biting his lip and turning away.

He’s always known, in the back of his head, that they’ll need muscle in their crew. That _someone_ will have to be violent, even if he isn’t. And he’s never _liked_ fighting, but Ryan’s show of strength there was oddly attractive - he remembers how quickly the other man got them out of that gunfight. How easily he grabbed Geoff and pulled him along.

Ryan clearly doesn’t like to hurt people. And he failed at killing Geoff, but how much of that was because he didn’t _want_ to be a hitman rather than because he was genuinely bad at it? He wouldn’t keep getting hired as gang muscle if he wasn’t good at it, after all.

He wants Ryan to join them. He wants him to put that strength to good use. But he knows, he can see in Ryan’s eyes, that he doesn’t want to be involved in the gang business. That he doesn’t fit here the way Geoff and Gavin do - they don’t like to hurt people either, but something of Achievement City has seeped into their blood. They want to stay here.

The only way out is to leave. He thinks that’s probably what Ryan should do.

But already, even now, Geoff doesn’t want him to go.

\---

“You don’t have to come,” Geoff says, as he and Ryan sit in a car outside a warehouse. They’re scoping out a new gang in the area who they’ve heard are hiring. People who work in-between other groups of robbers, helping them sell their spoils. It’s good work for someone like Geoff who haggles and deals - they might be after muscle, too. Hence why Ryan’s here.

Ryan shrugs. “Maybe we can both get a better paying job.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he blurts out, and Ryan turns to him in surprise. Geoff grits his teeth, but it’s too late. The words are out. “If you don’t like to hurt people, you shouldn’t be here. You should leave this city before you get any more blood on your conscience. Leave it to people like us.”

Ryan goes quiet. Geoff can’t look at him. His bowtie feels too tight, his suit uncomfortable and stiff.

“You think that’s what I want?” Ryan asks finally.

“You told me yourself. You want to get out. Isn’t that right?”

Ryan turns away. When Geoff finally looks up his face is strained, some internal tug-of-war raging.

“I’m in too deep,” he replies, voice tight. “I don’t think I _can_ get out at this point. I’ve done things already, I… I don’t know.”

Maybe he’s misjudged. Geoff looks at Ryan now - this morning Gavin insisted on painting something new on his face. A skull design, black wells around his eyes. He looks even more like the Grim Reaper. And it’s the same Ryan who saved him, the same Ryan who’s endlessly patient with Gavin, who tells a fucking bedtime story to that stupid cactus every night…

It’s him, but there’s something harder in his face. He remembers the question Ryan refused to answer - _how many people have you killed_?

Maybe not so innocent after all. Maybe Geoff’s just projecting, seeing what _he_ could’ve been if he hadn’t grown up here. Maybe Ryan doesn’t need as much protecting as he thought. Maybe it’s just too late.

“I’m not a good person, Ryan,” he says finally, and Ryan turns to him. He must see the unspoken question there - _do you really want to stay with me, knowing that? Do you really know who we are, Gavin and I?_

But he’s unfazed, staring steadily back at Geoff.

“You think I am?” he challenges - sees the answer in Geoff’s eyes and sighs. “Maybe, once. But… not any more.”

“What do you want?” Geoff asks him. “Because I want money. Gavin does too. It is about that, you know.”

“Really,” Ryan says flatly.

“Really,” Geoff replies firmly. “When you have none for a long time you start realising how fucking important it is. Money. Control. Other people not having power over you.”

Ryan’s silent for a long moment, but when he looks up Geoff thinks he understands.

“I don’t know what I want,” he says, and sighs. “For now I want a fucking job.”

Geoff can only laugh. And he can’t deny he feels better with Ryan at his side - the other man’s already pulling on his new mask and opening the car door.

It turns out that Ryan’s a lot more intimidating when he just keeps his mouth shut and stands there in his mask. Geoff feels oddly nervous with the other man watching him as he talks to the crew, negotiating a contract for both of them. Ryan’s nearly silent the whole time, but after the incident with the Corpirate it feels good, knowing someone has his back if things go sour. When they walk out of there, both employed, he can’t bring himself to feel sorry that Ryan’s in this with him as well now.

\---

“Where’s that bruise from?” Geoff demands.

He’s sitting with Ryan when Gavin slips into the apartment. By now they’ve settled into a comfortable routine; the two of them curled up next to each other watching TV. The couch is so small that Ryan’s arm is pressed right up against his. He doesn’t seem to mind. Geoff doesn’t either, even if he’s too-aware of the warm contact.

“Nowhere,” Gavin replies. He shuts the door and dumps his backpack on the floor, but Geoff leans out and grabs his wrist when he tries to get past, tugging him close. Gavin squirms before sighing and letting Geoff examine the mottled, dark bruising along his jaw.

“I nearly got caught,” he explains. “Someone hit me before I got away. It’s fine, Geoff, it’s not that bad.”

“Gavin,” Geoff chides.

“What?” he demands. “ _Nearly_ got caught. O’Shannassy had another job for me, but the security was too heavy. I’ll try again later, once they’ve let their guard down.”

“You will not,” Geoff snaps, and Gavin looks irritated.

“Geoff, I gotta take big jobs too,” he points out. He glances at Ryan, who’s watching in silence, before sighing. “Don’t get annoyed.”

He tugs his wrist free and disappears into his room. Geoff watches him go, lips pressed tightly together, and Ryan bumps their shoulders together.

“He can take care of himself,” he whispers.

Geoff just nods, tiredly. He knows he can’t mollycoddle Gavin, but until they get into a position where Geoff can monitor exactly what jobs he’s going on, he doesn’t like the thought of other people sending him into situations where he might end up in over his head.

Still. He gets up and goes to do the dishes and when he emerges it’s to find Gavin lying sprawled against Ryan, feet up over the arm of the couch, a frozen bag of peas resting on his face. Gavin looks up and gives him a faint smile. From this angle Geoff can hardly see the bruise.

He walks over, gently knocks Gavin’s legs off the armrest and sits on it, reaching out to card his fingers through the younger man’s hair. Ryan looks up and smiles too.

“Tell me the dream again,” Gavin murmurs, once they’ve settled into a comfortable silence.

“The dream?” Ryan asks, and Geoff looks up, suddenly self conscious.

Gavin’s eyes open and he twists to look at Ryan, before turning back to Geoff.

“You should tell him too,” he says.

That’s the moment where Geoff realises that Gavin trusts Ryan too. They’ve gotten closer these last few weeks. But the dream is special. It’s something that just the two of them have had for so long. Letting someone in is a big deal.

“We want to build a crew,” Geoff begins, at Ryan’s curious look.

“Not just a crew,” Gavin cuts in. “The _best_ crew. But Geoff, you gotta tell him the story _properly_ , like you always tell me.”

“The dream?” Ryan asks, and his lips twist. “That’s some Of Mice and Men shit you have going on there.”

Geoff’s stomach drops.

“And you know how well that ended for them,” Ryan continues, and chuckles a bit.

Gavin’s gone stiff. Geoff just feels sort of numb.

“Wow,” he says. “Excuse you. Of Mice and Men is a literary masterpiece.”

Ryan laughs again, not seeming to notice that both of them aren’t finding this amusing.

“Come on then,” he says. “Tell me about the dream.”

“You’re an asshole,” Geoff snaps, and Ryan’s smile fades. “I’m not gonna tell you now.”

“You’re not allowed to laugh about it,” Gavin cries, and flings himself up out of Ryan’s lap before marching into his room and slamming the door.

Ryan falters, realising he fucked up.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” he says quietly, and Geoff sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I know it sounds childish,” he replies. “But it’s really important to us. And we are dead serious about it.”

“You really think you can become top dog in this city?” Ryan asks, and Geoff looks at him, something uncomfortable churning in his stomach.

“Don’t you?” he challenges, and Ryan goes quiet, looking away. There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. Geoff hates this; it’s all been so _easy_ with Ryan, until now.

“You’re in over your head,” Ryan says finally, soft and serious. “You’re both good at what you do. But you don’t… you don’t realise what it’s _like_ out there. I worked for people as high up as Decker - you think you can get to the top without violence?”

“No,” Geoff replies. “But I’m willing to risk it. I’ll do what I have to.”

“You’ve never killed anyone before,” Ryan says, and scoffs out a humourless laugh. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Geoff doesn’t know what to say.

“Maybe it gets easier,” Ryan adds. “Maybe you get used to it. Maybe you shouldn’t want to.”

Another awkward pause. Finally Ryan sighs. He looks at Gavin’s bedroom door, then at Geoff.

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “Tell me about it.”

“No,” Geoff croaks, and clears his throat before shaking his head. “Not now.”

Ryan just nods, and looks away. Geoff feels sick. It’s the first time he’s been annoyed at Ryan - he retreats to his own room, shutting the door behind him.

He can see the other man is sorry. And they’ll get over it, eventually.

It’s special for him and Gavin. Maybe not for Ryan. But he doesn’t know yet, Geoff thinks. He doesn’t _see._

\---

Working for the new crew has both Geoff and Ryan busy. It’s on one of their rare days off that the police come knocking at their door.

Gavin’s out, at the university again. That’s the only thing Geoff can be grateful for. He’s barely woken up, was making breakfast with Ryan when the thunderous knocking begins. When he peers through the peephole and sees a cop staring back at him, he nearly shits himself on the spot.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, and shuts the peephole.

Can he talk them out of whatever it is they want? Or should they both just climb out the fucking window right now and run for it - that’d prove their guilt. Not that he has any idea what they might be charged with. He’s actually never come up against the police directly before. But in AC, every policeman belongs to someone bigger and badder.

“What’s up?” he calls out eventually.

“Is that Mr. Ramsey?” a voice shouts back. “We have some questions.”

Ryan emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a teatowel and giving Geoff a questioning look.

‘ _Police_ ,’ Geoff mouths, and sees Ryan’s eyes widen.

“About what?” he calls.

“We’re looking into the death of Thomas Decker,” the cop replies. “And we have reason to believe you were involved with him before his murder. It’s nothing major, but if you refuse to let us in we _will_ come back with a warrant, and this won’t be pretty for anyone.”

“Why would I refuse to let you in?” Geoff asks, and takes a deep breath. Okay. He can talk his way out of this - he knows he’s good enough. Shit, has the Corpirate not paid off the police yet or what? He’d’ve thought he’d get them to drop the murder allegations, considering he’s the one who fucking killed the guy.

He glances at Ryan again before opening the door. The policeman on the other side is a middle aged fellow. There’s something ghastly about how pale his face is, watery blue eyes staring meanly back at Geoff as he steps into the room.

Another man enters behind him - a police cadet, by the looks of it. Short, but stocky - young, too. He must be barely twenty - Gavin’s age. He glances up at Geoff as he passes, and Geoff stares back at him, disconcerted.

The older officer points to Ryan, who gives an awkward sort of wave.

“Who’s that?” he demands.

“My roommate,” Geoff replies cautiously.

“Roommate, huh?” the officer demands. “And what do you guys do?”

“Gardener,” Ryan replies, before Geoff can even say anything. He gives an easy smile. “Geoff’s between jobs right now.”

“I heard Decker died months ago,” Geoff adds. “Why are you only here now?”

The officer turns to him and tilts his head.

“Did you know him?” he asks.

“I did a bit of work for his company,” Geoff lies. “Just freelance consulting stuff - improving efficiency and all that.”

“You know he was murdered.”

“I wasn’t there when it happened,” Geoff replies.

The officer hums. Behind him, the cadet is looking around, peering curiously at the blankets and pillows on the couch where Ryan sleeps.

“His business partner, Ms. Lam, has been… uncooperative in our investigations,” the officer continues. “But she recently dropped your name - told us you were involved in a deal with Decker.”

Fuck, Geoff thinks. Of course Lam can’t sell out the Corpirate’s involvement. Now he’s become the scapegoat.

“I was going to buy a car from him,” he makes up on the fucking spot, Jesus Christ, “It never took place, though. He died before I had the chance. It was a private deal, nothing to do with his company.”

“I see,” the officer says.

There’s a long silence.

"You won’t mind if we look around,” he adds, and Geoff shrugs.

“You won’t find anything,” he replies easily. “But sure.”

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, heart pounding. Gavin’s room is full of stolen shit. Some of it’s obvious, too - the tablet, some gold bars that one of his gang contacts gave him after he helped them nick it. The police start looking around and he sidles across the room to stand between them and Gavin’s door, making it look nonchalant.

“Can I get you some tea, officers?” Ryan asks suddenly.

Both of them turn to him, surprised. Ryan’s smiling brightly. With the tea towel tucked into his belt and his sleeves rolled up, he looks the picture of domesticity.

“What?” the older officer asks suspiciously. Geoff figures that in Achievement City, they don’t get much of a friendly response from anyone.

“Can I make you something?” Ryan continues, pleasantly. His face is the picture of innocence, all big blue eyes and naive smile. “Tea? Coffee? It’s no trouble, not for the people who uphold the law around here. This isn’t a very nice neighbourhood, so most of the… folks we encounter are on the opposite end of the legal spectrum. It can’t be very nice patrolling here. And the gardens are _terrible_ ,” he adds, affronted. “No one has any sense of how to care for their property!”

The cadet is frowning. The officer just looks sort of shell shocked.

“No thank you,” he says finally.

“Alright then,” Ryan says, still beaming away. Geoff has no idea what he’s doing, but the cops are both glancing at him now, confused, as they continue looking around. The cadet approaches the window, and Ryan goes to him.

“Oh, that’s Edgar,” he says, smiling fondly as he brushes his hand across the cactus. “Isn’t he growing well? You gotta breathe on plants, you know. Carbon dioxide and all that.”

“Right,” the cadet mutters.

“Geoff is terrible when it comes to garden work,” Ryan chides. “All he does is sleep in all day. He really needs to get a job.”

There’s something chiding in his tone, and Geoff forces a week grin, only to freeze when Ryan slips an arm around his waist.

 _Oh,_ he thinks, realising what he’s playing at here. _Fuck, okay_.

“Stop nagging me in front of them,” he says, not letting his confusion show.

Ryan laughs fondly, and then bops him on the nose. Geoff can only stare at him, but the older officer glances at them and appears to be convinced that two such ridiculously domestic people could not possibly have been involved in the murder of a prominent AC businessman and ganglord.

“Alright then,” he grunts. “Stay out of trouble. With all this gang warfare, I guess Decker could’ve been taken out by anyone.”

“Thank you,” Ryan says, and the older man heads for the door.

The cadet is staring at the two of them, eyes narrowed - and Geoff sees his eyes flicker to Gavin’s door behind them.

 _Shit,_ he thinks.

“Sir,” the man begins.

“Come on, Jeremy, we’re done here,” he snaps.

“I think we should-”

“I said we’re done here.” He glances at his watch and marches out.

Jeremy freezes. He looks over at Geoff and Ryan again, eyes narrowed in suspicion - Ryan’s smiling away, and Geoff does too, but he doesn’t like how suspicious the young man looks. With his shirt neatly pressed and buttoned to his chin, his cap pointed perfectly forwards on his head, he’s the picture of propriety. That’s not something you see much in the cops here.

“Can I help you with anything else?” Ryan asks pleasantly.

“ _Jeremy!”_ the older officer hollers from halfway down the hall.

“Apparently not,” Jeremy replies quietly, and gives them a last, careful glance before following his superior officer out.

The second the door shuts behind them, Geoff’s shoulders slump in relief.

“Fuck me,” he declares, and turns to Ryan. “What the hell was that?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Ryan asks defensively.

“I know! It was a stroke of fucking genius.” The adrenaline floods away, leaving him feeling giddy. “I can’t believe you fucking _Dadded_ them away. You play the civilian scarily well.”

Ryan just smiles.

“I guess I just have a trustworthy face,” he declares.

“I could fucking kiss you. I thought we were gone when he started looking around,” Geoff begins, but Ryan’s frozen and he realises what he just said. “I mean, good job, pal.”  
  
“Thanks,” Ryan says with a smile, and they pause, staring at each other. Geoff’s heart’s still pounding, and Ryan is watching him very intently. He licks his lips nervously and turns away.

“Let’s hope they don’t come back,” he adds awkwardly, and Ryan nods and then darts back into the kitchen, muttering something about the muffins burning.

\---

Geoff isn’t stupid. He knows what’s going on here.

He hasn’t had time for romance since he adopted Gavin. There’s been the occasional person he goes home from a bar with. Fucks them back at their place - never takes them home. It feels weird, bringing people from outside in here. It’s always just been his and Gavin’s space.

Either way, it’s been a while. He’s been too busy, and too tired.

But with Ryan it’s different.

Something draws him to the other man. It’s the _light_ in him, if anything - that he’s a startlingly good cook, how he trips over his own words and laughs at Geoff’s stupid jokes and doesn’t drink. That he’s gentle with Gavin. That he looks like he could rip a man in two with his bare hands, but Geoff knows he doesn’t actually _like_ to hurt people.

And there’s something between them. They both know it. They’re not blind.

But Geoff doesn’t want to fuck this up by making things awkward.

He worries, sometimes, that Ryan still doesn’t get it - doesn’t understand exactly what Geoff wants here. That he genuinely does intend to run this city one day. That he knows he’s going to have to hurt people to get there. That he’s becoming more okay with that the more he thinks about it.

Still.

It’s a fine turn of events when he comes out of the shower one afternoon and may or may not be chilling in his room arse naked when Ryan walks in.

“ _Fuck!_ I’m sorry.”

The strangled yell is all the warning he gets before he realises the door’s open. Geoff whirls around to find Ryan standing in the doorway. His face is bright red, and his eyes involuntarily flick down, widen, and then jerk back up again at the speed of light.

Geoff stares at him for a long moment, mind wiped blank.

“Shoulda knocked, buddy,” is all he gets out finally, much more calmly than he feels. He has little shame left. But it’s _Ryan_.

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan splutters, and Geoff shrugs. Gotta own it at this point. He puts his hands on his hips. That’s probably a bit too much, because Ryan makes a funny choking sound.

“Nothing Gavin hasn’t already seen,” Geoff replies.

There’s an awkward silence. Ryan doesn’t look away. He’s _looking_ at Geoff - looking at him _properly_. Not, like, staring at his junk or anything. But his gaze trails across Geoff’s shoulders, down his arms and across his chest - tracing the lines of his tattoos, Geoff realises after a moment. Something almost transfixed in his gaze. Geoff thinks he doesn’t want him to stop.

“I… you have a lot of ink,” Ryan says finally.

“It’s the one thing I let myself spend money on,” Geoff replies.

After a moment, he grabs his boxers from the bed and puts them on. That seems to break the spell; Ryan jolts and goes red again, flustered and unsure what to do with his hands.

“What did you want?” Geoff asks, looking back over at him.

“Nothing important,” Ryan replies, and swallows so hard Geoff sees his throat bob. “I’ll, um, be going now.”

He rushes off so quickly that Geoff has to laugh. It falters away once Ryan’s gone. His heart's pounding; he sits on the edge of his bed with a sigh, reaching up to run his hands over his face.

Fuck. The feelings have to be mutual. He can tell when someone’s checking him out - when they like what they see.

It would be so easy to walk out there right now and make a move on Ryan. He _wants_ to.

But he forces himself to wait.

_Don’t fuck things up. Don’t rush into this. Not yet._

\---

In the end, fate plays a hand in things, the way it always has so far. Bringing Gavin to him - having Ryan be the person sent to kill him.

With both of them working for the same crew, it’s fairly common for Ryan to come along as a bodyguard on Geoff’s deals. He likes it, that chance to let the other man see him work, for both of them to figure out exactly where they stand in this world.

This time, the deal they’re on turns out to be a trap. The crew they’re meant to meet apparently just wants to send a message to Geoff’s employer, a big ol’ _fuck you_ by killing off his men. As soon as they walk into the warehouse they realise they’ve only been called here to die - the other man with them drops under an immediate hail of gunfire, and Ryan tackles Geoff back behind a pile of crates as bullets pepper the ground around them.

“Fuck,” Geoff gasps - there’s panic, for a moment, seizing up in his chest. But he’s prepared this time, already pulling his own gun out. A funny calm taking over him a second later as he realises that he _has_ to get out of this, to get back to Gavin, to protect Ryan, too-

“How many?” he shouts.

“Three, it looks like,” Ryan calls back - he’s braced for action, his own gun in hand, peering out now and then.

There’s something almost scary about how easily he waits for a break in the firing before standing and shooting one man. Geoff hears a scream and the thud of a body.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

It was a perfect shot. He remembers Ryan zooming past on a motorbike, missing wildly when he fired at Geoff. Why was he so bad then? And the knife he threw in the wall, expertly, yet how easily Geoff disarmed him when he broke in through the window.

Something doesn’t add up here.

Ryan’s not the innocent thing Geoff thought he was, clearly. Now that they’re in danger, he’ll do what he has to to survive.

 _Survive_.

That’s what Ryan does, he realises suddenly. He remembers what the other man said, about being roped into this - and he’s told Geoff bits and pieces of it. How he went to college, was set straight until he was dragged into this by hanging out with the wrong people - friends who got involved with drugs, ended up owing bad people bad things. Gangs, a misplaced murder - Ryan digging himself into a deeper hole trying to get out of it.

But he’s still here. He’s still alive. And he doesn’t like it, Geoff knows. And it seems he won’t put effort into hurting people if he doesn’t think what he’s doing is fair.

But he’ll fight to keep what’s his. His life. Geoff’s. He doesn’t like it, but he’ll do what he has to.

A second man is on a platform above them. He fires another shot and runs for the stairs - Ryan pops up and gets him in the leg. He falls with a scream, slipping over the railing and plummeting to the warehouse floor. Geoff doesn’t see him land, but he hears the sickening _crack_ of the impact.

“Fuck,” he hisses again.

The third man is silent, and after a moment Geoff turns to Ryan. The other man’s chest is heaving, and his shoulders are very stiff. Geoff reaches out and touches his shoulder, and Ryan jumps.

“Let’s get out of here,” Geoff whispers. Ryan nods.

They turn to leave when the third guy pops up out of nowhere - he’d made his way around the side of the warehouse, hidden by shelves. He fires and Geoff throws himself at Ryan, barely elbowing him out of the way in time. Before he knows it, his own arm rises and he shoots the man.

It’s the first time he’s ever shot someone.

It’s easier than expected.

A deafening bang. Recoil that jolts his shoulder back. And the man falls, screaming, blood ballooning across his abdomen.

He’s not dead.

He crumples to the ground, writhing - Geoff stares at him, shell shocked, and Ryan steps forward and shoots the man in the head before Geoff can blink. The silence that follows makes his ears ring.

“Let’s go,” Ryan hisses, and grabs Geoff’s arm, yanking him out after him.

\---

 _Too close. Too close_.

It rattles around his head, endlessly. The gunshots ringing in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his blood. His chest feels tight. As they speed away in the car, he’s breathing too fast, nearly gasping.

Ryan is driving. After a moment he reaches up with one hand and fumbles his mask off. His face paint is smudged underneath. Gavin did it this morning before leaving for his own work; jovial, laughing. The skull sneers as it melts down his face.

“I killed someone,” Geoff chokes out.

“No,” Ryan replies, without looking at him. “I did.”

\---

They pull over by the side of the road some distance away. In the outskirts of the city, there’s little around but factories and warehouses. Cars zoom by around them, cold metal, cold faces flashing past, uncaring of what’s been left behind. The machine chugs on.

Geoff doesn’t realise he’s panicking until Ryan’s hands fold over his and he dimly becomes aware of the other man telling him to “Breathe, breathe… slowly. You’ve got it.”

It gets through to him. He chokes, and sucks in a deep breath. Realises how dizzy and lightheaded he was getting. Closes his eyes and focuses on Ryan’s grounding touch, and how warm his hands are. The way his thumbs are stroking gently over Geoff’s scarred knuckles.

He opens his eyes. Meets Ryan’s; bright blue in the blur of dark paint.

“You don’t get used to it,” Ryan murmurs.

“Yes you do,” Geoff chokes back. He can feel the truth of it, how even now his concern is more that _he_ nearly died, that Ryan could have, not that they left three bodies behind them. How it’s less of a shock than what happened with the Corpirate. “Yes, you do.”

Ryan looks away.

\---

They start driving again. Back on the highway, towards the city. Cars speed by around them; Geoff feels like they’re static somehow, watching the world rush by. He feels dizzy, like everything’s moving too fast. Like he’s fired one bullet and set things in motion and now nothing will be the same.

“Thank you,” he hears himself say.

Ryan jolts and Geoff suddenly comes back to himself. He turns and finds Ryan’s jaw set tight, hands clenched on the steering wheel.

“We had to do that, you know,” he adds. “We had to. They shot at us first.”

“I know,” Ryan replies, quietly.

“Sometimes you have to do it,” Geoff repeats, almost to himself. “I would’ve killed them. If it was Gavin there, that I was protecting. If it was you. I would have.”

“You didn’t have to,” Ryan says, and glances at him. “I was there to do it.”

“I know,” Geoff murmurs. And then, again, “Thank you.”

\---

They stop again, at a rest spot on a hill overlooking the city. Away from the noise of the highway, secluded and quiet. A spot people might have picnicked in, if this wasn’t AC. They could be travellers, just passing through.

“Are you okay?” Geoff asks, when Ryan’s been quiet too long. He looks over to find him rubbing his face with wet wipes, cleaning the paint and sweat away.

“Yes,” Ryan replies. It doesn’t sound like a lie.

Geoff turns away and stares out the grimy windscreen.

“I think I understand,” he says.

Ryan lowers his hand. His face is clean now. He looks wrecked, eyes tired and shadowed. But harder somehow, than Geoff’s ever seen him before.

He’s like them, Geoff realising suddenly. The more time Ryan spends in AC, the more he becomes part of it. Just like he and Gavin did. The city is in their bones, but they won’t play by its rules. They lie, and steal, and cheat, and kill. And they do it for money, and they do it for control, and they do it for _themselves_ -

But they do it to the people who are already part of the game. That’s the difference. They do it to the people who would do it to them, who do it to others every single day.

He thought Ryan wouldn’t want to be a part of this at all. He thought Ryan wasn’t like them. But he was wrong.

Ryan is like them, the difference is he hates himself for it. But he doesn’t have to. And Geoff thinks, the more time he spends around Gavin and himself, that he’s starting not to.

 _He’s important to you_ , he realises. Maybe until this moment he didn’t quite register just how much. And after all this, he can’t lose him.

He reaches out and touches Ryan’s hand. The other man startles, but after a moment folds his fingers around Geoff’s and squeezes back. Geoff can feel the calluses that have built up from holding knives and guns for so long. No matter Ryan’s intentions, what he does is growing on every part of him.

They sit for a long while in silence, watching the city spread out under them. The Corpirate’s huge skyscrapers. Smoke rising from somewhere in one of the suburbs. The faint wail of sirens, a constant here.

“One day we’ll be rich,” Geoff begins abruptly. The sing-song recital that he has committed to memory. Ryan looks up at him, surprised, but Geoff stares straight ahead. All he can do is say it. He takes a deep breath and continues. “We’ll run this city.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to koletato and youre-my-bois for their help with this fic <3
> 
> Updates will be once a week!


	2. jeremy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **c/w: gendered and homophobic slurs**

**ii. jeremy**

Jeremy is totally not stalking Geoff and Ryan.

It’s called _police surveillance_ , and there’s a difference.

Okay, make that _unofficial_ police surveillance, because he’s not in uniform and this is totally off record and out of hours. And maybe he’s dressed casually, and in sunglasses so they don’t recognise him, and the newspaper he’s hiding behind and peering up over is probably overdoing it a bit, but _look_ , he has a very good reason for all of this.

And this reason is that he was not fooled, at all, by their little lovey-dovey, ‘look at us we’re so _normal’_ display back in that apartment. He’s pretty sure Officer Larson wasn’t fooled, either, but point is, the other man isn’t doing a damn thing about it.

Jeremy isn’t surprised by that.

He was surprised a lot when he first joined the force, but he’s quickly starting to realise that a lot of very shitty things are going on in the ACPD. It’s why he’s here alone tonight, on an uncleared mission.

Watching them.

It’s a cool evening. Dark, despite it not being that late - with winter rolling in the sun sets early. There’s rain in the air. The two of them are dressed casually - they’re hanging around outside a fish and chips shop, apparently waiting for their order to be ready. Jeremy’s sat at a nearby bus stop, peering at them over the top of his newspaper.

From here, he can’t hear what they’re saying. They’re laughing together, smiling at each other. He’d go so far to say they were flirting. Geoff’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, hood up against the winter chill - he’s leaning in as he says something to Ryan, grinning widely and rocking back and forth on his heels. Ryan’s smiling fondly at him, glancing up now and then and nodding along to Geoff’s story while he taps away at his phone with his other hand.

By all accounts, they look pretty damn normal.

But Jeremy’s been watching them for a while. He’s seen them.

Seen Ryan in his black leather and mask - seen the terrifying skull he paints underneath. Seen them both arrive back at their apartment covered in blood. Seen them leave early in the morning and return late at night. Seen the bulletholes in their car, a broken window at one point.

They’ve never seen him. He’s careful. He’s been watching for a while - they’re involved and he knows it.

But here they are now, laughing and grinning at each other adoringly. Geoff’s particularly forward this evening - he leans in and pokes Ryan’s arm cheekily, saying something else that makes the other man chuckle and roll his eyes before heading back into the chip shop. He emerges with a steaming plastic bag and the two of them head off side by side down the street.

Jeremy watches them leave, frowning. He folds up his newspaper slowly and lets out a tired sigh. His breath fogs up in front of him - it’s cold, and he shoves his hands in his own pockets as he makes his way back down the street alone.

\---

“Sir,” Jeremy begins.

“One moment,” Larson replies, without even turning to look at him.

Larson is a grumpy old man, and Jeremy despises him. He’s an asshole - a _racist_ asshole, too, to top it all off - lazy in his work and possessed of some terrible habits including fobbing all his paperwork off on Jeremy, not filing evidence properly and leaving it for others to clean up, and sneezing without covering his fucking mouth. He’s the embodiment of the _disappointment_ that Jeremy felt ever since he started here and was assigned to work under the older man. At first, he’d tried to convince himself that Larson wasn’t all that bad. That he was a hero under it all. That turned to shit pretty quickly.

But Jeremy hopes, now, that the idea of cracking a big case might tempt even him.

Right?

He waits patiently, hovering in the doorway to the other man’s office. Larson is painstakingly playing a game of minesweeper on his computer. He keeps losing count and having to start again. Jeremy shifts his weight from side to side, and is relieved when Larson finally clicks and his screen lights up with explosions.

“Fuck!” the man hisses, and slams a fist against his desk. “ _Fuck_!”

“Sir?”

“Be fucking _patient_ , Dooley,” Larson snaps. Jeremy bites his lip, but waits as Larson reaches for a mug on his desk and finishes whatever’s in it before finally swivelling his chair around to look at him. Jeremy’s grown to hate the impassive stare of those pale eyes.

“What’s your problem, then?” Larson demands.

Jeremy steps into the room, unable to hide his excitement now that he’s finally getting the chance to explain himself.

“I’ve been investigating Geoff Ramsey and Ryan Haywood-”

“Who?” Larson interrupts, already sounding bored.

“The ones involved in the Decker case - don’t you remember? We went over to their apartment a couple of months ago.”

“Oh, _those_ poofters,” Larson interrupts, and Jeremy fights back a flinch, feeling sick. For a moment he falters, his stomach dropping and something uncomfortable swelling in his chest. For a moment, he doesn’t want to continue. But Larson continues to stare at him expectantly, and he swallows hard and continues, ignoring the statement.

“They were clearly hiding something. So I’ve been looking into them and they’re definitely involved in the gangs around here. They’ve been on jobs for a bunch of different crews - as far as I can tell, Haywood’s a mercenary, and I’m not sure what Ramsey does, but some of the groups he’s been working with are pretty big. I traced some of his background, too, and I believe that his business with Decker actually involved one of those crews. As for Haywood - a few days after Decker died, the apartment building he used to live in burned down. When I started looking into that, a name came up.”

“Yes?” Larson drawls, still sounding barely interested.

“ _Sir_ ,” Jeremy insists. “This is big. Bigger than I ever imagined. This could be groundbreaking.”

“What, then?”

“The Corpirate,” Jeremy says excitedly. “If he went after Haywood, it must be because he knows too much. And why would he want to silence him unless he had something to do with Decker’s death? Their businesses used to work together, but in the months before Decker died he…”

He trails off, because Larson is scowling, now - has risen, something determined and _angry_ in his face.

“Dooley,” he says slowly, dangerously, “I told you at the time that we were dropping the case. We’ve moved on.”

“But sir-”

“The fucking _Corpirate_ \- you seriously think _he_ was involved? Jesus Christ. And did you say you’ve been continuing to look into that case behind my back? Who do you think you are?”

Jeremy opens his mouth, but can’t think of what to say. He hates himself for it, wants to snap back that this is _real_ , that he’s the only one being _responsible_ around here, unlike the rest of the lazy and corrupt officers. But he can’t find the words, can’t bring himself to lash out, and Larson sneers at him, shaking his head.

“You’re lucky I’m not writing you up for this. It doesn’t matter who killed Decker. That case is closed. Now get out of here.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeremy forces out through gritted teeth, and rushes out of the room. His cheeks are burning - he flees into the bathroom and slams his fists against the sink.

“Damn it,” he seethes. “Fucking _damn it_!”

It was stupid to go to Larson about this.

Some naive part of himself had thought the older man would actually care - would jump at the chance to take down who everyone knows is behind most of the crime in this city. The Corpirate - he’s too big to hurt, but Ramsey and Haywood could’ve been their way in with their connection to Decker. It would’ve been a _start_ , at least, to taking out the biggest man in the city.

But it seems the cops are more crooked than he thought.

It’s not sheer laziness. Larson must be on the Corpirate’s payroll too. It makes Jeremy feel sick to think about, that everyone around him, everyone he’s working with doesn’t _care_ the way he does. Doesn’t want to enforce justice in this city - just profit like everyone else. A man is dead and they don’t care who did it - just want to sweep it under the rug as soon as possible so that their criminal overlords can continue to run freely.

It’s fucked up and he feels dirty because of it, for staying here steeped in everyone else’s corruption. For not being able to _do anything_.

His fingers angrily grip the edge of the sink. He looks up into the mirror, stares into his own red-rimmed, burning eyes. His uniform is neatly pressed, pristine.

_This is what you wanted. This is where you wanted to be._

_The force. Cleaning this place up._

He just wants to do _right_ here. But no one will _help_ him, and he doesn’t know where to _go_ from here, and he slams a fist against the grimy bathroom wall again and again until the pain drowns out the sick feeling in his stomach.

\---

There isn’t a sob story here, really.

It’s not like Jeremy has some tragic backstory, some past that’s haunted him his whole life and pushed him to where he is now. And it’s not even like he wants to be a hero. That’s not it. There isn’t any Batman shit going on here - he’s not trying to change the world.

Maybe to most other people in AC, it’d seem like that. Maybe it’d sound ridiculous to anyone else. That he believes so much in truth, and _justice_ , and all that shit. That he’d join the police in the hopes of, what - cleaning the city up?

Like many things, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The defining moment takes place when Jeremy’s family moves houses at age thirteen.

Prior to this, he’s actually relatively sheltered from what sort of place Achievement City really is. Maybe he’s just too young to understand. But he comes from a middle class family, and his parents work normal jobs - his father’s in real estate, his mother’s a GP. They live in a nice neighbourhood. It turns out those do exist in AC. Somewhere close to the rich district, but not so close that the other people living there are part of the corrupt business sphere.

They’re _normal_ , which considering what’s usually considered ‘normal’ in AC, makes them actually pretty damn foreign.

What Jeremy doesn’t know, doesn’t understand growing up, is that it’s nice because it’s run by a rather more benevolent figure than the Corpirate or any of the other crime lords. He lives, for all intents and purposes, in a bubble.

And that bubble bursts when changes in his parents’ work means they have to pick up and move right across the city.

That’s when everything changes.

Moving to high school opens Jeremy’s eyes. A _lot_. It’s a rich school, fancy - he’s actually one of the least wealthy kids there, but his family is still very comfortably well off, which says something about the other students. But everyone else there are the children of lawyers and businesspeople and stockbrokers - a bunch of other occupations that get you very rich, and even richer if you bend the laws a little while practicing them.

The school is nice, focused on getting the kids into pretentious university degrees - but the part of town that they’re right next to isn’t. There’s another school in the neighbouring suburb and when playing truant, or catching the bus, or walking to the nearby shops and restaurants in a free period, Jeremy sees the students who go there.

It’s like a whole other world.

Packs of scrawny, wild kids who act like animals - or at least, that’s what the rich kids at his school say about them. _Lowlifes_ , they call them, with a funny sort of glee. _Thugs. They’ll end up joining the gangs around here, that’s all they’re destined for_.

It rubs him up the wrong way to see the delight with which his classmates regard the other school - the petty, malicious amusement they take to compare the clothes they wear, the way they crane their necks towards the bus window hoping to see a fight in the playground.

It’s like his eyes have been opened and suddenly all he can see is that everything here is _wrong_ , that there’s a whole other side to the city he’s grown up in - the city he used to love as his home.

He’s a quiet kid - keeps his head down at school. Starts working out at the gym, because as one of the poorer kids at school (comparatively) as well as being smaller than all the other boys, he’s their go-to target for bullying, and bulking up as best as he can keeps them away.

And he hates the stories that he hears every day - on the bus, told in hushed whispers as they pass through the poorer neighbourhoods. _Drugs, gangs, a kid got stabbed, I heard -_ the ones in the newspapers and on TV now that he looks out for them. He wants to _do something_ about it.

Doesn’t know what.

The second turning point comes when a child at their school is murdered.

He was in Jeremy’s year. They’re about fifteen when it happens. He gets taken hostage by one of the gangs in the city - his mother, a prominent barrister, crossed some of the wrong people. They pay the ransom.

The kid dies anyway.

It’s shocking. It’s senseless. It stops Jeremy sleeping at night.

He thinks that, more than anything, is the breaking point of sorts. He feels sick that it’s _normal_ for the others at his school - hears them talk about it, rather more seriously than they talk about anything else - the fact that most of them have fucking kidnapping insurance, have personal bodyguards, have safeguards against this sort of thing. Whispers of _would your father pay - of course mine would - didn’t help him much, did it?_ That there are teenagers he sees every day who live in fear of their lives and think that’s just the way things are.

The police come in a few weeks after it happens to talk to the student body. Maybe it’s because Jeremy’s scared himself, even if he has no reason to be - maybe it’s because he feels like his world has dropped out from under him - maybe because he didn’t even know the dead boy that well yet somehow feels like their lives have become intimately connected through this event, like it’s changed everything for him as well. But somehow the sight of the cops in their uniforms, standing there with shoulders squared and backs straight, the picture of authority at the front of the auditorium - it reassures him.

He sees them as heroes. As struggling law-keepers trying to keep order and peace in this zoo of a city. As the only people who can maybe _fix_ things, who can keep him safe.

He gets stars in his eyes just thinking about them, because all he wants, all he’s wanted since he realised exactly what sort of place he’s in, is for someone to do something here. To _try_ , at least.

_He_ wants to try.

And from the moment the police give that talk - the moment he finally sees someone as in control of this mess - he believes that’s the way to do it. That that’s what he has to do.

A year before he graduates, his parents pack up and move across the country. He leaves Achievement City for three years - graduates high school and goes straight into the police academy.

At first it’s great - he believes in what he’s doing. He has friends who do, too. He has a purpose, a _mission_ , he feels this is where he was meant to be all along.

But when he moves back to AC for his first practical posting, it just - all falls apart.

_Never meet your heroes -_ isn’t that what they say? He’s done more than meet them, he’s tried to _become_ one of them, and it’s there that he realises that they were never heroes at all. At first he clings to his dream desperately - it’s all he has, it’s what been working up to his entire high school life until now. It’s what he’s put his heart and soul into. _Fix this_.

But he quickly comes to realise that the police in Achievement City are just as bad as the people they’re meant to be stopping. If they’re not on the payroll of the rich and powerful, being asked to overlook offences ranging from malpractice to fraud to murder, they’re in with the gangs, dealing in drugs or smuggled goods as much as any of the crews that run wild here.

It dawns on him - slowly, reluctantly - that no one is good here.

But _he_ is.

And if he believes - there have to be others who do too, right? It’s all that he can hope for. That he’s not wrong. That he’s not a fool.

But right now, more than anything - _worst of all_ \- he feels alone.

\---

Jeremy slams down his empty glass, letting out a frustrated groan as he slumps down in his seat. The bar around him is claustrophobically noisy - too many crowds of rowdy people letting out raucous yells as they watch some football game on TV. He eyes them with displeasure - rough looking men, hard-eyed women - this isn’t a nice part of town. And part of him feels sorry for them; they were born into this, like everyone here. And part of him loathes _himself_ for his ridiculous saviour complex. They don’t want to be saved. Maybe they don’t need to be.

Maybe he’s just been stupid all along.

He’s tired, more than anything, and still sick at the thought of Larson. Today has just been a terrible day all around and all he wants to do now is go home, and make Easy Mac, and watch Netflix with his neighbour’s cat.

With a sigh, he grabs his jacket and slips out of the bar, pausing in the street and hissing at the chill in the air. It’s late by now, but there are still a number of people around, milling about the bars and clubs in this part of town. Rubbing his hands together and then shoving them under his arms against the cold, he heads off down the street towards where he parked his car-

Only to pause when he passes by the mouth of an alleyway and hears a commotion inside.

“Take that, you little bitch-”

“Fuck-”

“You want to try doing that again?”

Jeremy freezes, instantly alert. He’s marching into the alley before he even thinks about it - it’s instinctive. Someone’s in trouble - so he has to help.

There are three figures crowded around a smaller man. The alley is dark, only a little light filtering in from the streetlights outside, and he can only make out their shadowy forms - it looks like one of them is holding the man’s arms while the others hit and kick at him.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Jeremy hollers, and they all freeze. His mouth opens to continue _police!_ but before he can, the men scatter and run, seemingly cowed by the mere sight of someone else coming in to stop them. In the dark, and with the streetlight behind him casting his shadow large and menacing against the wall, he probably seems a lot scarier than he actually looks. Especially since his voice, at least, is commanding and confident, assured in what he’s doing.

The men split down the opposite end of the alley, and Jeremy considers chasing them - but the man they were beating on sways and slumps against the wall, and he has to make the split-second decision to help him instead of pursuing the others.

“Shit - are you okay?” he asks, skidding to a halt in front of him.

It’s hard to see in the dark, but it’s a young man, curled in on himself and groaning. His face is covered in blood - a split lip, Jeremy notes, a swelling eye - he’s a reed of a thing, small even if he’s not as short as Jeremy. Something righteous and angry stirs in him, furious on the man’s behalf. There was no way that was a fair fight, not ganged up on like that.

“You gonna rob me next?” the man groans. A single green eye squints at him, the other swollen shut, before the man slides further down the wall to sit on the filthy alley ground.

“What? No! I chased them off.”

“I noticed. Nice work. Thanks, by the way. Guess you scared them. Bloody cowards,” he spits, and a gob of dark blood spatters on the ground next to Jeremy’s shoes, even as he crouches down next to the man. “They made off with my wallet.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Jeremy begins, concerned, but the man straightens up, alarm flashing across his face.

“No hospital,” he says, with a sudden fierceness. “ _No police_.”

Jeremy blinks a few times. He’d been about to tell the man who he was - assure him that he was safe, that he would do everything he could to find the men, that he’d take him back to the station if he wanted to answer more questions - but the words die on his tongue at the intensity in the other man’s voice.

“I… okay,” he replies, softly, and the man relaxes back against the wall.

“That’s actually the first time I’ve been mugged, you know?” he says. “In five years here! My streak has been broken.”

“How badly are you hurt?”

“Just bruised. You stepped in before they could do anything too bad. Thanks again,” he adds, and Jeremy smiles a bit. “What’s your name, then, my charming hero?”

“Jeremy,” he replies. There’s something warm swelling in his chest, now, at the fact that he’s been able to do one good deed today. That he’s made a  difference to one person at least - that he’s worth _something_ , here. “And yourself?”

“Gavin,” he replies, and holds up a hand. Jeremy laughs a bit, shaking it.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Gavin. Can I take you home, help you get anywhere…?”

Gavin peers up at him suspiciously. Jeremy stares back at him, a bit confused. He holds out a hand to try and get him to his feet, but Gavin flinches back.

“Sorry,” Jeremy says automatically. “Sorry, you okay?”

“Who are you?” Gavin demands. “Why are you being so nice?”

Jeremy opens his mouth, ready to explain again - but hesitates, suddenly. Thinks of Larson back at the station and the police here who turn a blind eye on anything that doesn’t profit them. Doesn’t want to be one of them, tonight, even if he lives up to his own ideals.

He feels so _tired_ , suddenly. Sad that Gavin finds it unbelievable for anyone to just randomly be kind. Sad that that’s not even surprising.

“I don’t like seeing people getting picked on,” he replies instead.

Gavin still looks confused at that. But Jeremy holds out a hand again - slowly this time, gently - and after a moment Gavin reaches up hesitantly and grasps it.

Jeremy smiles at him, and Gavin tentatively smiles back. Jeremy heaves him to his feet and steadies him when he stumbles, pressing a hand to his side with a groan.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again. He’s vaguely worried about internal bleeding, or something - it’s so dark in here that he can barely see Gavin, let alone how badly he might be injured. “If it hurts, you should get it checked out.” 

“You’re so concerned,” Gavin says, almost mockingly - when Jeremy just continues to stare worriedly, something in his face softens. “Lovely Jeremy,” he adds, and smiles a bit. “I live near here. I was walking home when they jumped me - serves me right for trying to take a shortcut. My brother can check it out, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Let me take you there, then,” Jeremy says firmly.

“How gallant of you,” Gavin sneers - when Jeremy doesn’t rise to the bait, he just looks confused again. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Of course,” Jeremy says.

Gavin’s eyes narrow again. He still doesn’t seem to trust that Jeremy isn’t trying to rob him as well - but Jeremy just waits, patiently, as Gavin takes two steps, winces and clutches his side again, and then glances back at him a bit pathetically.

“Okay,” he grumbles. “I think I will, indeed, need your help getting there.”

Jeremy nods, moving up to steady him again.

“My car’s parked nearby,” he begins, but Gavin shakes his head furiously.

“No,” he says, voice laced with suspicion again. “You can walk me.”

Jeremy bites his lip. He doesn’t like that Gavin won’t even get in a car with him - it makes him feel like the bad guy here - doesn’t like that if he had been in uniform, Gavin would probably trust him even less. But that’s just normal for Achievement City, and he nods reassuringly.

“Okay. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Gavin’s eyes widen a little. Then he smiles - tentatively - reaches up to wipe some of the blood from his chin before reaching out to Jeremy again. Jeremy puts an arm around his waist, supporting him as Gavin wraps an arm around his shoulders and limps a few steps.

“You are the perfect height for me to lean on,” he informs Jeremy, as they make their way out of the alley.

“Thanks… I think?” Jeremy replies, and Gavin snorts.

“That was a compliment. Wow,” he adds suddenly, and Jeremy jumps a little when the other man suddenly squeezes his bicep. “You’re fit. You could have beaten those guys up.”

“Not really my thing,” Jeremy replies.

Gavin pauses, staring at him for a moment. Their faces are close with the way Gavin’s leaning on him. It’s brighter out here in the street, and Jeremy finally gets a good look at him - they must be about the same age. Even bruised and bleeding, there’s something very bright and alert in Gavin’s eyes. He seems like the sort of person who misses nothing. But there’s wariness, under that, too. Jeremy stares back at him and hopes Gavin can see in his face that he really doesn’t have an ulterior motive here.

Finally Gavin looks away.

“You’re weird,” he says, and there’s something almost petulant in his voice.

“Weird? Why am I weird?” Jeremy demands, laughing.

“Because! You’re being so _nice_. Are you new in town or what?”

“Grew up here, actually,” Jeremy replies. “Unlike you, I’m guessing.”

“What, from the accent? I’ve been here long enough to know what sort of place it is,” Gavin mutters. He starts to move again, Jeremy helping him along down the street, letting him lead the way.

“Not everyone in here’s the same,” Jeremy says quietly, and Gavin goes silent too, seeming to mull this over. When he darts another look back at Jeremy a few moments later, it’s less wary and more curious.

They continue on. Gavin wasn’t lying; he lives close by, except as they walk Jeremy notices they’re passing down very familiar streets - something oddly nervous builds up in him, reaching a frozen peak when they stop outside an apartment building that he’s been to too many times over the last few weeks. Watching. Spying.

“You live here?” he demands, and Gavin nods.

“Yep!”

Jeremy frowns. It’s a hell of a weird coincidence, Gavin living in the exact same block of flats that Geoff and Ryan do.

“Need help getting up?” he asks, slowly, but Gavin shakes his head and lifts his arm off Jeremy’s shoulders.

“I think I can take it from here.”

There’s an awkward pause before Gavin smiles, finally. His eye’s still swollen shut, and the movement makes more blood drip from his lip - but it’s so small and shy and genuinely _grateful_ that it makes Jeremy’s chest feel warm inside. Makes him feel like tonight, at least, he made a difference. Made at least one person see that it’s not all bad here.

“Thank you,” Gavin says quietly, and Jeremy smiles back at him.

“Honestly, it was nothing. I like to help people where I can. Be careful, okay?” he asks, and Gavin nods and gives a mocking salute before limping off towards the apartment building. Jeremy waits, watching him go - Gavin turns when he unlocks the door and enters the foyer, waving. Jeremy waves back before stepping away into the shadows where Gavin can’t see him.

He pulls the pair of binoculars he may or may not have been spying on Ryan and Geoff with for the last few weeks out of his pocket, and waits.

There are only a few lights on in the building. A few minutes after Gavin enters, another switches on - in the apartment that Jeremy knows belongs to Geoff.

His heart pounds. He lifts the binoculars, focusing in on the window.

The curtains are drawn, but they’re flimsy, shitty things, and through them he sees the blurry outline of two figures he’s become intimately familiar with by now. _Geoff. Ryan._

And moving to join them, another smaller figure.

_Gavin_.

The forms huddle together - they’re fussing over Gavin’s injuries, no doubt - and Jeremy slowly lowers the binoculars.

_Well then,_ is all he can think.

This is certainly a turn of events.

Gavin mentioned a brother. Jeremy assumes he means Geoff - he isn’t quite sure how that works - but it makes sense, now. There were two bedrooms in that flat, but it’d looked like someone had been sleeping on the couch when he was in there.

_So there’s a third_ , he reasons. _Little brother Gavin._

Of everyone he could’ve run into tonight, it just so happened to be him. It’s quite a coincidence - and, as he thinks about it more, quite an opportunity.

After being shot down by Larson, some petty part of himself had been tempted to rage quit, to give up, not to bother since apparently no one wanted his help, anyway.

But that’s not the sort of person he is. And the idea comes to him, now.

_So Larson doesn’t want my help - so what? Who needs him, anyway. I’ll investigate on my own. Bring my findings to someone outside Achievement City. That’ll show them._

_And Gavin’s my way in._

If Geoff and Ryan hadn’t told Gavin about his visit - or at least, if they hadn’t told him in enough detail - he could easily conceal the fact that he was a police officer from the other man. He doubted the two of them even remembered him, anyway. No one else ever paid much attention to him, after all.

And then - what?

_Get close_ , he thinks. _Befriend him_.

It seems malicious. Deceptive. Everything he hates. But Gavin, he reasons, must be as much a part of the dark side of this city as Geoff and Ryan are. And the information he can provide might help Jeremy prove that the Corpirate was involved in Decker’s murder - and from there, in the rest of the crime that pollutes this city.

_Undercover reconnaissance_ , he thinks - it sounds a lot better than ‘lying to, manipulating and using somebody.’

Besides. Maybe Gavin won’t even know anything. It’s worth a shot, at least - he doesn’t necessarily have to _do_ anything other than just get to know the other man at first. Get close.

Mulling over this new idea, he puts the binoculars away and slowly walks back to his car, turning every path he’s taken until now - every way he can go from here - over in his mind.

\---

It’s a week later when Jeremy once again finds himself lurking outside the apartment building, waiting for Gavin to emerge.

All week the other man has somehow managed to dodge him. Presumably he spent his weekend resting up and healing - but after that, Jeremy has been trying and failing to get a sense of his routine. He has no idea what the other man _does_ for a job - didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of him in all his previous spying on Geoff and Ryan.

He soon figures out why.

After not managing to catch Gavin leaving for several days in a row, he adjusts the time he goes to the flat and soon realises that Gavin leaves hours before the other two men - usually at just past six - and then returns at sporadic times ranging from the afternoon to past midnight.

Geoff and Ryan don’t exactly have routine schedules either, and the whole business only makes it harder to watch any of them, especially since disorganisation in the police station means Jeremy’s own shifts are all over the place.

But today, finally, he’s here and watching as Gavin leaves the house.

He’s dressed differently than Jeremy’s used to - most of the time when he’s seen the other man returning home, he’s been dressed quite simply, in dark jeans and a black hoodie - hair a rat’s nest - a big gold watch on his wrist the only ornamentation.

But today he’s cleaned up well - hair spiked up with gel, wearing nicer jeans and a fitted coat. A pair of expensive looking sunglasses perched on his nose. If Jeremy hadn’t been waiting for him, he probably wouldn’t have recognised him. He’s got a backpack slung over one shoulder, hands jammed into his pockets against the cold morning air as he hurries down the street only to pause at the bus stop.

_Where’s he going?_ Jeremy wonders - not the same place he has been every other day, apparently.  

The bus pulls up. Gavin gets onto it. Jeremy quickly returns to his own motorbike and starts to follow it.

\---

The University of Achievement City is the biggest and most prestigious university in the city. It gets a lot of funding from the corrupt corporate bigwigs who run the rest of the business sector, so being able to get into the competitive courses is more a matter of who your parents are than how well you did at school.

Gavin gets off the bus at the stop just outside the university and Jeremy nearly loses him in the flood of students that disembark. It’s still quite early in the morning, but the uni was right on the other side of the city from where Gavin lives. It’s no wonder he leaves at the break of dawn to get here.

It takes him a while to find somewhere to park his bike without losing sight of Gavin. Finally he continues to tail him on foot - watches him head over to one of the food courts nearby, where a bunch of students are waiting in line for coffee.

Jeremy can immediately tell they’re all rich. They’re not dressed like any uni students he knows - no hoodies, or ripped jeans, or bed hair here. They’re dolled up in pristine designer coats, high heels and expensive dress shoes - they certainly don’t look like the sort of people who got up at six in the morning and caught the bus.

Gavin fits in well enough in his sunglasses and coat. He takes his phone out, fiddling with it in one hand as he joins the coffee queue. Jeremy’s lurking at the entrance to the food court, self conscious in his own leather jacket and old jeans - as he watches, Gavin shifts forward, so subtly that if he hadn’t been looking, he’d barely have realised. He ends up pressed close to the back of the girl in line in front of him - the crowd’s so big that she doesn’t even notice - Jeremy peers closely and sees the motion of Gavin’s hand as he palms her wallet.

_Thief_ , he thinks with horror.

The indignant anger that he always gets at the sight of a crime surges through him. He instinctively starts forward, wanting to help - but bites his lip and forces himself to stop.

_Wait._

_That’s not what you’re here for._

_You can’t give yourself away, not now - there’s a bigger purpose._

He watches, pained, as Gavin shifts back, pocketing the wallet. He slips out of line after a moment, glancing at his watch affectedly and cursing, and then leaves the food court entirely. Jeremy glances at the oblivious female student, feeling guilty, and then follows him.

Gavin doesn’t go far. There’s a courtyard outside the building with tables and seats, and he sits down at one of them, checking the time again before messing with his phone. Jeremy lingers, watching him, before taking a deep breath.

_Here we go, then_.

“Gavin?” he calls out, walking forward.

Gavin jumps, fumbling and nearly dropping his phone. He whips around, and his eyes widen when he notices Jeremy walking towards him.

“Jeremy?” he squawks, nearly comically shocked. “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

“I go to uni here.” The lie comes out smoothly. It’s almost too easy to pretend, to smile as he takes a seat next to Gavin. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Shit,” Gavin says. He looks ridiculously flustered, lost for words. After how smoothly he palmed that girl’s wallet, Jeremy’s a bit surprised by his lack of composure, and how nervous he sounds as he babbles on. “What a coincidence. I mean, me too. Hence why I’m here. Hi. Oh my God.”

Jeremy can’t help but laugh at him, and after a second Gavin laughs too, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, you really startled me. I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew so early in the morning. Wow,” he adds, “You’re younger than you looked the other night in the dark.”

Jeremy just smiles at him. Gavin seems to be taking him in for the first time - he probably didn’t have much of a chance to before, when his eye was swollen and it was in the middle of the night and he was probably in a significant amount of pain - his eyes run over Jeremy curiously, almost searchingly, and Jeremy stares back at him, trying to keep a straight face. Paranoid that something will give him away - that Gavin will somehow be able to sense the police officer in him.

But after a moment, Gavin just gives his own little smile.

“Thanks for your help the other night,” he says. “That could’ve been bad if you weren’t there. And sorry if I was… you know. Ungrateful, or - or whatever, I just… people don’t normally help other people around here…”

He trails off, awkwardly, but Jeremy nods.

“Hey, it’s totally fine,” he says. “How are you doing?”

“A lot better,” Gavin replies, grinning.

“You look better,” Jeremy says. There’s a bruise around Gavin’s eye, but it’s faded greenish by now and it looks like he’s covered part of it with make up - there’s a slight red mark on his lip and another scrape on his forehead - but now that he’s not covered in blood, Jeremy can actually make out his features properly.

It comes almost automatically to reach out and touch his face - Gavin’s eyes widen and he shrinks back a bit, too close to a flinch, and Jeremy drops his hand immediately. The concern he felt for Gavin the night he saved him rises back up, even if he knows the other man is a thief now - even if he knows he’s in with Ramsey and Haywood - he can’t help it.

“So what do you study here?” he asks, and Gavin perks up again.

“Media and law. Combined degree.” It has to be a lie - but it comes out so smoothly that Jeremy thinks he must have crafted a backstory for whatever student persona he puts on here, to avoid suspicion - he must come here often, hanging out like he’s actually enrolled in this place. Stealing.

“You must be pretty smart,” he comments, and Gavin tilts his head, lips twitching.

“You could say that. What about you?”

“History,” Jeremy makes up on the spot.

“Third year?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Same,” Gavin says, and hums. “You live on campus?”

“No! Too expensive,” Jeremy says. “I have a flat near here.” That part’s not even a lie, really; the university might be far from Gavin’s place but it’s pretty close to where Jeremy lives.

Gavin nods, slowly. He’s watching Jeremy inquisitively, seeming to be trying to figure him out - but there’s something much more relaxed in his shoulders than there was the first night they met.

“You look nice,” Jeremy adds, glancing him up and down. Gavin’s got his sunglasses shoved up in his hair now, but even if it’s an act, the nicer clothes suit him. In the daylight Jeremy can see how green his eyes are, how tanned he is despite the fact that it’s winter.

Gavin looks startled, then oddly flustered again.

“Thanks,” he replies. Then, “Hey, can I buy you a drink or something? As thanks for helping me out the other day.”

“You don’t have to,” Jeremy begins - but Gavin shakes his head.

“I don’t like owing people things,” he replies. Jeremy gestures at a vending machine nearby.

“It’s a bit early for a drink, but I wouldn’t say no to a Red Bull,” he says, and Gavin laughs and gets up, Jeremy following him over. Gavin pulls out his wallet, and Jeremy raises his eyebrows. It’s clearly the one he stole from the girl, and he’s surprised Gavin would be so obvious about it.

“You steal that, huh?” he asks.

Gavin looks down and Jeremy sees him kick himself.

“What, you think I can’t have a pink wallet?” he replies, and shakes his head. “Way to gender stereotype, Jeremy. I’m disappointed.”

“I mean, that photograph kind of gives it away,” Jeremy points out, and Gavin looks down again. In the open wallet, there’s clearly an image of the girl who owned the wallet kissing her boyfriend on the cheek. It’s a photobooth image, complete with feather boas and ducklips.

“Don’t suppose I can convince you that’s me and my girlfriend,” Gavin asks, and Jeremy rolls his eyes.

“I mean, he’s Asian. So, no.”

Gavin looks away. It’s a funny mistake for him to have made, considering he seems like the sort of person who’s usually careful. That’s one good sign at least, Jeremy can only think. That he’s somehow already made Gavin let his guard down enough to slip up.

“You gonna call the police on me, then?” Gavin asks. His voice is joking but there’s a wary note in it.

Jeremy leans against the wall next to the vending machine and folds his arms, looking Gavin up and down. The other man stares back at him, but Jeremy can see he’s tense again, ready to run.

“Do you really go here?” he asks instead.

“What?” Gavin snaps. “Don’t think I’m smart enough to get into uni?”

“More like I don’t see why a law student would be stealing other people’s wallets,” Jeremy says drily. “I’m good at telling when people are lying.”

“Gonna turn me in?” Gavin asks again.

“No,” Jeremy says - Gavin blinks at him, and Jeremy smiles a bit. “I think you should return it, though. Why’d you take it? Just for fun?”

“No,” Gavin replies. He stares down at the pink wallet, then looks back up at Jeremy with something almost mocking in his eyes. “I’m equalising the distribution of wealth around here.”

“You can’t just take things that aren’t yours.”

“They’re rich brats,” Gavin says, voice hard. “Mummy and Daddy paid for all of them to be here. Didn’t get their money honestly, either. A lost wallet won’t even put a dent in their bank account. To them, this is nothing. To me, it can be the difference between whether I eat today or not.”

Jeremy bites his lip. Gavin’s jaw is clenched and there’s something in his eyes that makes Jeremy pause - something proud, wild, almost challenging. Jeremy looks down at the wallet clutched in his hand, his thin wrist poking out from the end of his coat. After a moment, he holds out his hand.

“What?” Gavin asks.

“Give me the wallet,” Jeremy says patiently. “I’m going to go in there and give it back to her.”

“And then what?” Gavin demands, confused.

“And then, if you’re still out here, I’ll take you to get something to eat,” Jeremy continues, smoothly. Gavin’s eyes widen again, and Jeremy smiles. “I hope you won’t disappear while my back’s turned.”

Gavin hesitates. But Jeremy waits, and after a moment he drops the wallet in his hand. Jeremy turns and heads back inside. He’s sure he must look far more confident than he feels - his heart is pounding, wondering if when he gets back outside Gavin will have vanished and he’ll have blown this whole thing.

But somehow, he doesn’t think he will have. Some optimistic, overly idealistic part of himself already thinks he might’ve gotten _through_ to him.

“Has anyone lost this?” he calls out, heading back into the food court - the girl is frantically searching through her purse at a table, and she jumps up at the sight of him and rushes over.

“Found it on the ground outside,” Jeremy begins, but she just snatches it from him and heads back to her friends without even a _thank you_. Jeremy stares at her, indignant, but he has more pressing things on his mind, turning and going back outside.

Gavin’s still there.

He’s standing by the table, one hand resting on the back of the chair. Looks nearly ready to bolt. When he sees Jeremy coming back towards him, his fingers clench on the back of the seat, but he doesn’t move.

“You’re still here,” Jeremy says quietly.

“Free food was offered,” Gavin replies, and then looks away and adds, tightly, “I’m not your bloody charity case.”

“Not at all,” Jeremy agrees. “I guess I just want to get to know you better. If you’re okay with that.”

Gavin glances up at him, suspicious again. But his face softens when Jeremy stares earnestly back at him.

“I’m not new to this city, Gavin,” Jeremy says. “I grew up here. I know what people are like. I know how hard it can be. It definitely makes it hard to make friends,” he adds, almost jokingly. “But I’d say saving someone from getting mugged is as good a start as anyway. Even if you were gonna pay me back with someone _else’s_ money.”

Gavin huffs out a laugh. But he nods, and when Jeremy holds out a hand, gesturing towards the food court again, he follows.

\---

“This whole thing’s a lie, then,” Jeremy says, gesturing at Gavin - the  clothes, the backpack, even a notebook he’s got full of writing. Legit notes, too. Like he went into a lecture and sat down and started making them. “You just come here to pick pockets.”

“Don’t say it so loudly,” Gavin replies, but there’s amusement in his voice. They’re sat at a table in one of the cafés here, breakfast in front of them. He cuts into his waffle and takes another bite; there’s something quick and methodical to the way he eats - cutting every piece carefully so as to waste nothing. Jeremy watches him, transfixed.

“But yeah,” Gavin continues after a moment. “I’m not even enrolled here. But I come in a few times a week - I’ve figured out the timetable for all the different courses. I rotate so I don’t get the same people twice.”

“And you just take their money?”

“Or their jewellery,” Gavin replies flippantly. He’s opening up a bit, now, and Jeremy knows why - he himself is putting on an eager, wide-eyed look. Pretending to be impressed, a little intimidated even. The naive goody-two-shoes to Gavin’s bad boy. It seems to be working. “They certainly wear a lot of it.”

“I can’t imagine you make many friends like that,” Jeremy murmurs, and Gavin shrugs.

“So what?” he asks.

Jeremy’s silent a moment, thinking this over. He supposes, wryly, that he doesn’t exactly have many friends himself. _Any_ friends. Well then.

“I get it,” he says slowly, unable to help himself. “It’s hard in this city. But you could get a normal job.”

Gavin gives him a filthy look over another mouthful of waffle.

“People who are already employed tend to say that like it’s very easy,” he points out, and Jeremy looks away.

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Gavin shrugs, turning back to his food. Jeremy pushes his own breakfast around his plate, idling. Trying to figure out how else he can get Gavin to start talking without making it overly obvious.

As it is, Gavin speaks first.

“You don’t act like someone who grew up here,” he comments.

Jeremy glances up. Gavin’s looking curious again, seeming to have dismissed Jeremy as any sort of threat. _Good_.

“It’s a city of four million people,” he points out. “Not everyone here’s gonna be the same. Now who’s stereotyping,” he adds with a grin, and Gavin laughs and pulls a face.

“Fair play.”

“So what else do you do apart from come here?”

“Steal other things,” Gavin admits with a shrug. “Makes me a decent enough living, most of the time. I’m not the only one, either. Theft is basically its own occupation, here. And people will hire you to steal shit for them.”

“And you’ve never been caught?”

“No,” Gavin replies with a smirk. “I’m good.”

He says it proudly. No remorse at all. Jeremy can only stare at him. After a moment he smiles, hoping it’ll make Gavin trust him more. Sure enough, after a second Gavin grins back a little - small, genuine, along with a little laugh. He seems glad Jeremy isn’t judging him. Oh, he doesn’t know - something small and guilty wells up in Jeremy’s chest.

“And how about you?” Gavin asks then. “Never broken any rules? Not one of us AC scumbags, is that right?”

“I never had to be,” Jeremy replies. “I guess the part of the city I grew up in was just better. I like to do right by people.”

“Very noble of you,” Gavin says, and there’s something so mocking in it that Jeremy almost feels genuinely hurt. He glances away, and Gavin falls silent. When Jeremy looks back over at him there’s something strained and guilty in the other man’s face. Like a confused child trying to figure out why they’ve upset a parent, or why the bug they crushed in their hand isn’t moving any more.

“I don’t mean to make fun of you,” Gavin says haltingly. “I’m just a cynical bastard, don’t mind me.”

“I’m getting there too,” Jeremy admits, without even thinking about it. Because it’s true, after everything he’s seen in the ACPD, he is losing hope a bit - wondering if maybe this is all pointless - it’s the first time he’s ever admitted it aloud, and he’s surprised when a flash of regret crosses Gavin’s face.

“You shouldn’t,” he replies, quietly. “You helped me a lot. You should keep helping people.”

Jeremy smiles a little, but his heart is racing again and all he can think is, _I’m trying to. By lying to you here - by getting close to you - by trying to use you, I’m hoping to help people. To bring down the Corpirate for the greater good. I guess that is the right thing after all_.

“What about your brother, then?” he asks, getting them back on track a little. “What’s he do?”

At the mention of Geoff, Gavin goes careful again, though not quite as much as he was originally.

“Makes deals,” he replies vaguely.

“What sort of deals?” He keeps innocent curiosity in his tone, and while Gavin doesn’t seem suspicious, he does just laugh and shrug dismissively.

“What, you want the sordid details of the criminal underworld?”

“It’s that bad?”

Gavin just shrugs.

“Nah. Not bad like some people. We all do things here. Even them,” he adds, and gestures at the law library nearby, the lecture halls and university students, “They’re just as bad, they just _look_ cleaner. They’re not in it for justice. Well, I suppose some might be. Some naive idealists like you.”

It’s teasing rather than mocking now, and Jeremy scoffs.

“My brother and I take care of each other,” Gavin continues then. “We’re family.”

His face has softened a little, and he meets Jeremy’s eyes almost shyly. Jeremy stares back, kindly, and after a moment Gavin shifts in his seat.

“I can’t believe you gave her wallet back to her,” he mutters.

“It would’ve ruined her whole day to lose it,” Jeremy points out, gently.

Gavin shrugs.

“She’d forget it in no time,” he says - Jeremy feels a bit disgruntled at his dismissiveness, but doesn’t let it show; he’s getting a weird vibe from Gavin, like he genuinely can’t _tell_ how he’s affecting other people, like it’s not that he doesn’t care so much as he doesn’t know _how_ to care - “I go to lectures, you know. I spy on other people’s laptop screens and learn their names and google them. Make sure they’re not nice people that I take things from. My brother taught me to do that. We have our own codes.”

That’s… surprising, actually.

“You sound like a pirate,” he says instead, and Gavin laughs, a genuine laugh that makes his bright eyes crinkle at the corners. It’s nice.

“Thieves’ honour,” he replies, and grins.

Jeremy smiles back. It’s not the sort of system anyone should operate by, the policeman in him is thinking - no matter how bad these people are, you can’t just _steal_ from them. But it’s _something_ , at least. That’s better than nothing, especially here.

“Anyway,” Gavin says, and pushes his empty plate back. “Enough nattering for one day. You must have classes to get to?”

“Y-yeah,” Jeremy stutters - he’d nearly forgotten he was posing as a student here too, “Yeah, I… I do.”

“Thanks for the food,” Gavin adds, with another genuine smile. After a second, he points warningly at Jeremy. “But you’re stacking up favours! I don’t like that. If we run into each other again, I need to do something for you. If you want something stolen you know who to call, I guess.”

He starts to stand up, and Jeremy calls out to him.

“Hey!” Gavin turns - “What’s your number?”

Gavin freezes from where he was pulling his backpack onto his shoulder.

“What?” he asks.

“I want to,” Jeremy says. And then, at Gavin’s confused look, “Run into each other again.”

Gavin bites his lip, and Jeremy smiles at him.

“It’d be nice to hang out again. I, uh. Don’t have many friends here.”

Gavin considers this, and raises an eyebrow.

“Sure you wanna consort with a thief?” he asks finally.

Jeremy scoffs out a laugh.

“It’s interesting to get another perspective,” he says.

Gavin stares at him for a long moment. It’s the moment of truth, Jeremy thinks - if he declines now, there’s no way Jeremy can approach him again without it looking suspicious. But Gavin looks at the table, then, the two empty plates - and finally nods.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

Jeremy smiles. Gavin turns back to the table and pulls a pen from his pocket, scribbling a set of numbers down on the nearest napkin. Jeremy watches him - his messy, almost childish handwriting. His long thin fingers, perfect for picking pockets - how the way he’s bent over the table only emphasises the lean, sharp lines of his body. He swallows, looking away, feeling another creeping guilt. Before he can dwell on it, Gavin’s dangling the napkin in his face between two fingers.

“There you go, then,” he says - he’s staring at Jeremy very intensely, and he feels his cheeks heat as he takes it. Gavin looks surprised, then gives something close to a smirk.

“See you around then, Good Boy,” he replies, and Jeremy rolls his eyes. Gavin hefts his backpack onto his shoulders and starts to saunter off.

“Hey,” Jeremy calls after him - Gavin turns over his shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

Gavin laughs.

“I can,” he replies, and sticks his tongue out at Jeremy before leaving, vanishing into the crowds of students that are starting to emerge from the buildings as the hour ends and class periods finish.

Jeremy sits back in his chair with a sigh.

_That went well_ , he thinks.

Gavin obviously doesn’t suspect a thing. Thinks Jeremy’s just some naive student with a fascination for the darker side of AC. Because of that, he’s open. Because of that, Jeremy thinks he can start coaxing him into saying more about exactly what sort of illegal things he and his family are involved in.

He wonders where Gavin’s off to now. Probably to go and rob someone else, heedless of everything Jeremy said to him today.

He feels strange. Part of him’s genuinely curious about Gavin, genuinely drawn to his funny charm. He seems different from the other criminals in the city. But the rest of Jeremy is still horrified by the ease with which he breaks the law, takes what he wants and doesn’t seem to care.

There’s guilt there, too, about the fact that he has an ulterior motivation here. But he shoves it away - _it’s all for a reason, he’s just some thief, if he can help you then take it, take what you need -_ and looks down at the napkin and the number in his hands.

He’ll call Gavin again. He’ll continue this.

He has to.

\---

Jeremy and Gavin meet up several times over the next few weeks, and talk even more over texts.

It’s funny - maybe Jeremy never really realised it before - but he’d had some image in his head of all the criminals in Achievement City living and breathing what they did. Of spending their days constantly plotting, focusing their entire lives around their gang business, or whatever it happens to be that they’re involved in.

It’s silly, he knows. Unrealistic.

But Gavin, he realises very quickly, is just a normal boy his age. He likes to go to the movies - when he can afford it, or sneaking in if he can’t - and he actually does find the media lectures he breaks into interesting. He likes cat videos, and Starbucks, and swimming at the beach.

For now, Jeremy’s focused on just getting to know him. He hears little, vague bits and pieces about gangs in the city, about things Gavin’s stolen, about what Geoff (still just “my brother” as far as Gavin’s concerned) does too. But for the most part, he’s just winning Gavin’s trust.

And it _is_ interesting, he can’t deny that. Gavin’s fun to hang out with - always has some stupid question or funny remark up his sleeve to keep the conversation flowing. Has moments of strangely shy innocence that Jeremy nearly finds _endearing_. His money situation seems to be constantly fluctuating; he mentions something once about pooling income with his brother but when Jeremy questions what Geoff uses it for that leaves them struggling, Gavin just replies with a very enlightening “You know, stuff.”

Jeremy can imagine what ‘stuff’ is. Petrol. Ammunition. Medical supplies. Not to mention rent, food, bus fare for Gavin - and an income that depends on how many people’s wallets he manages to swipe and how much money happens to be in them when he does.

Still - he has nothing solid, not yet - but he doesn’t push, lets Gavin reveal things at his own pace. Little slip ups that have him glancing at Jeremy, concerned, waiting for judgment - but Jeremy’s patient curiosity has him starting to open up, tell more stories. Reveal more.

All waiting for something solid that he can _use_.

Gavin doesn’t seem to have many people he’s close to. It must be the novelty that has him agreeing to go out with Jeremy so much - they have so much to talk about that they chat for hours over lunch, or while going on walks, excitedly getting to know each other. And maybe it’s been too long since Jeremy hung out with someone his own age too; sometimes he almost forgets he has another purpose in all this. Sometimes he just gets caught up in _Gavin_ , in laughing with him or discussing stupid hypotheticals or exploring the city together.

For the first time in a long time, he almost doesn’t feel lonely - almost has something to look forward to around here.

\---

“Are you cold?” Jeremy asks.

They’re walking by the bay. It’s early afternoon and a frigidly cold day. There aren’t many people about, not here where they are. It isn’t lunchtime yet, so the office workers in this part of the city haven’t come out to the bayside restaurants and cafes, and AC doesn’t get many tourists. There are just dock workers, further along the pier, and a few ships out in the distant water.

The place feels desolate, especially with the sky grey with the promise of later rain.

Jeremy’s exhausted.

He’s on the night shift for now, but Larson’s apparently still pissed off with him for pushing the Corpirate thing, and he’s had mountains of paperwork taking up his time rather than anything practical or even remotely fun. He barely got four hours’ sleep after getting home before waking up to a text from Gavin asking him if he wanted to come hang out.

The other man doesn’t know that, of course. Although “you look like shit” was the first thing he said when Jeremy showed up.

Of course Jeremy still came out to meet him, though. Didn’t even think twice about it. Made up some lie about pulling an all-nighter on an assignment that Gavin didn’t question.

The other man looks up, now. They’re standing by a rail looking out at the dirty water of the bay. It smells pretty bad, like brine and sewage, but against the dark water Gavin’s eyes look very green.

“I mean, it’s a bit nippy out,” he replies. His hands are wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, but he’s not really dressed for the weather - he must not have been at uni today, is just in a hoodie and jeans.

“Do you want my scarf?” Jeremy asks. It’s not even a ploy to gain his trust; Gavin genuinely looks cold and he offers without really thinking about it.

Gavin stares at him, somehow still surprised, even if they’ve hung out enough recently that Jeremy would definitely consider them friends.

“Won’t you be cold, Li’l J?” he asks. He came up with the nickname some time ago and always says it with such fondness that Jeremy can’t even bring himself to be offended.

“I’m okay. I don’t feel the cold too much.”

“With all that muscle on you,” Gavin teases, reaching out and poking his bicep. Jeremy laughs, unwinding his scarf. He starts to pass it to Gavin, realises he can’t take it while holding his coffee, and reaches up to put it on for him. Gavin goes very still as Jeremy gently winds the scarf around his neck, adjusting it to sit nicely. He stares down at him, nearly cross eyed, and Jeremy can only laugh when he notices.

"That okay?” he asks.

Gavin’s eyes are huge. He shakes himself and nods, suddenly flustered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I - thanks. It’s very warm.” He reaches up and touches the scarf with one hand, and Jeremy smiles. He leans against the rail, looking out at the water. Can see Gavin watching him, and after a moment the other man comes up next to him. They’re close enough that their arms are pressed together, a warm point of contact. Jeremy’s a bit surprised; they haven’t really touched much, until today. It’s weirdly, suddenly affectionate. He doesn’t mind - he’s a pretty tactile person - but it’s a step forward, he thinks, from Gavin who’s still pretty careful around him even if he’s more open in conversation now.

They stand in silence for a while, watching a particularly enthusiastic seagull swooping around over the water.

“My brother’s around here somewhere,” Gavin offers out of the blue, and Jeremy turns to him, surprised - suddenly remembering exactly why he’s here, what he’s meant to be trying to find out. “He has a job in the area. Normally I’m the one hanging out around the bay.”

“What’s his name?” Jeremy asks.

“Geoff,” Gavin replies, without hesitation this time. It’s almost a shock to hear him say it out loud, confirming his link to the man Jeremy’s been spying on for months now.

“How much older is he?” he continues.

“Ten years,” Gavin replies. “He’s not my real brother. He took me in when I was fifteen.”

“Oh,” Jeremy replies. He’d been wondering about the whole British thing - but had figured Geoff might’ve come to America sooner, or been a half-brother, or any manner of things. It’s a bit of a shock to find out they’re not actually related by blood at all - he supposes they don’t look much like each other, but Gavin had called Geoff his brother so many times that he’d just assumed it was true. It _is_ true, he realises now, blood or not they still consider themselves very firmly a family.

“Surprised?” Gavin asks, sounding amused - Jeremy nods a bit sheepishly, but Gavin just laughs. “He’s the only family I need. I guess there’s Ryan too, now.”

“Who’s Ryan?” Jeremy asks, like he doesn’t already know. It feels uneasy - normally he doesn’t lie so directly, doesn’t _have_ to.

He’s expecting _Geoff’s boyfriend_ to be the answer, given what he’s seen of them. But Gavin just shrugs.

“How do I begin to explain Ryan,” he muses, with a scoff of a laugh. “He’s our other roommate. But he’s part of it too.”

“It?”

“The family, I guess.” Gavin chews his lip, looking away. “I don’t know.”

“Your cousin,” Jeremy teases, and Gavin laughs.

“No, it’s… different.” He trails off in frustration. “It’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t need to,” Jeremy replies softly. “I think I get the gist of it.”

Gavin smiles. After a moment he turns to Jeremy, curiously.

“Are you close to your family?”  
  
“They don’t live in AC any more,” Jeremy replies. “But yeah, I’m still in touch with my parents. No siblings.”

Gavin hums. There’s a long pause. A gust of wind hits them and he huddles closer to Jeremy’s side, seemingly without thinking about it.

“Are you happy?” Jeremy asks, abruptly. He’s not sure why.

Gavin glances at him again. His lips stretch back in a grin.

“I’m really happy,” he says, and Jeremy can tell it’s true. He looks away, thoughtful. He hadn’t considered this about the criminals in Achievement City, really. That they were fine where they were. That they were so close to other people. Even that one of them would take in a teenage runaway and raise him as his own family.

Still. The fact that they’re discussing Ryan and Geoff is a good start, and he realises suddenly that this is it, what he’s been waiting for - he can push for more information from here.

“What’s Ryan do?” he asks. It comes out casually, but he still nearly shits himself when Gavin turns to him with a frown.

“I don’t think you want to know,” he says - only half-joking.

_I do know. I know already._ He’s seen the blood, the mask, leaving the apartment at strange hours.

“I’m not a child,” he replies, with mock indignation. “Seriously, Gavin. I’ve figured out enough by now that you can’t shock me.”

“Yeah?” Gavin asks. “What if I told you he kills people?”

Jeremy stills. Gavin’s watching him carefully.

“It happens, here,” he replies slowly.

“But you don’t approve.”

Jeremy doesn’t know what to say.

“Are you safe?” he settles on finally, quietly.

It’s the right thing to say. Gavin’s shoulders relax, seeming to accept that he can’t scare Jeremy off so easily.

“‘course I’m safe,” he replies with a grin. “He’d never hurt me, or Geoff. There’s a code,” he says again, thoughtfully. “Not everyone here has one. But we do. Geoff does. And Ryan’s different.”

“Are you ever worried about them? It’s dangerous here.”

“Of course I am,” Gavin replies with a snort. “You just have to not think about it.”

“I mean it. There are some powerful people around here that you guys should try not to get mixed up in.”

“We know,” Gavin replies, with exaggerated patience. “It’s not just gang leaders, you know. Everyone here…”

“I’m aware,” Jeremy says, and takes a deep breath. “This Corpirate guy…”

He waits for Gavin’s reaction. All he gets is a small frown, and a shrug.

“Oh, he’s a piece of bloody work, that one. But we stay away from him. For now,” he adds, a touch ominously. “But I don’t wanna talk about that.”

Jeremy can’t push, not without looking suspicious.

“Of course not,” he says, quietly.

Another moment of silence. Gavin keeps glancing at him, and Jeremy looks back at him and gives a small smile. Gavin’s early confusion is back, something skittish and flighty in it, like he’s just waiting for Jeremy to run away screaming.

“You know now,” Gavin says finally, stiffly. “My family, all… _this_.” He gestures at the docks, the city around them. “We’re involved.”

“Well, you were hardly making it _secret_ ,” Jeremy teases. And then, when Gavin doesn’t laugh, “Like you said, Gav. Everyone is.”

“Not you,” Gavin says softly, and there’s something almost pleased in it.

“Not me,” Jeremy repeats, and feels another tug of guilt. He _is,_ with the police and all this - he’s involved, and Gavin doesn’t know, and he feels bad when the other man turns to him with a big smile.

It starts to rain then, spitting gently down on them, and Gavin squawks and grabs Jeremy’s arm. He tugs him towards the shelter of a nearby street of shops, linking their arms together as they go. Jeremy isn’t sure if that’s really something friends _do_ \- apparently? - but he laughs and goes along with it, dropping the topic for now.

\---

He gets another chance to bring up the Corpirate soon enough.

“Reminds me of England,” Gavin says.

It’s another rainy day. Even more miserable, this time - it’s been storms the last few weeks, unending, and it’s pissing down now. They’re sitting in McDonalds in a booth by the window, watching the downpour. It’s warm in here, at least, and affordable for Gavin. Jeremy always offers to pay for things but after that first meal Gavin’s always refused.

He’s still on night shifts, and he’s running on coffee now, exhaustion heavy in his limbs and the vague headache he has. Gavin’s been eyeing him with concern since they met up. He looks tired too - hasn’t been at uni the last few days, doing whatever other stealing job he’s always on instead. He’s never told Jeremy more details about that.

But the rain now is making Jeremy sleepy more than anything else. It’s almost hypnotic watching colourful umbrellas rush by outside through the blur of water on the glass. The sweeping waves that splash over the sidewalk whenever a car or bus rolls by.

“Ever miss it?” he asks, turning to Gavin.

The other man thinks about it for a moment, then shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “There’s nothing there for me.”

He turns back to his chips, which he is inexplicably dipping in four different kinds of sauce and then putting inside his cheeseburger. Jeremy watches him thoughtfully. Gavin’s told him a little bit about how he got here - mostly just that he ran away from home, stole money until he could afford to come here. Apparently AC was the best place to sneak into America from.

“Was it as bad as here?” he asks.

Gavin looks up. He seems surprised Jeremy’s pushing, but Jeremy just watches him, genuine, soft curiosity in his eyes.

“Not as open about it,” Gavin replies. He sat next to Jeremy in the booth rather than opposite him, and it means they have to turn their heads to look at each other. “There are bad people everywhere in the world. In AC at least we’re all in it together, right?” He grins, and Jeremy just tilts his head. After a moment Gavin shrugs. “But nah, AC is probably statistically worse. Guess I’m part of the problem, right?”

He wiggles his fingers at Jeremy and the other man smiles a bit numbly.

“The Corpirate,” he begins, seizing the chance.

“Cunt,” Gavin says, cheerfully.

Jeremy chokes on his drink, and Gavin falls into fits of squeaking snickers. Jeremy rolls his eyes, grabbing a napkin to clean up where he’d spluttered lemonade down his own shirt.

“No, seriously,” he presses. “He’s behind all this.”

“Pretty much,” Gavin agrees, disinterestedly dunking another chip.

“And no one can stop him?” Jeremy demands. “Surely there must be evidence.”

Gavin realises he’s serious, and looks up.

“Who’s gonna risk getting popped off trying to taking him down? It’s not gonna happen with _evidence_ ,” he scoffs. “Someone will kill him eventually. They always do.”

There’s something funny in his voice. Like he knows something else - something that’s going to happen, or has happened - Jeremy can’t place it.

“You ever run into him?” he asks.

“No,” Gavin replies, and hesitates. “But Geoff has.”

“Can I hear the story?” Jeremy asks.

Gavin’s quite for a long moment, thinking. Then he sighs, and leans back in the booth. His shoulder presses against Jeremy’s as he lifts his hands to run through his hair.

“I wasn’t there,” he begins. “Geoff only saw him once. He killed another guy right in front of him. But Geoff got out - Ryan helped him - that’s how they met, kinda. Well, it wasn’t the first time. But it’s why we trust Ryan so much now.”

“Why’d he kill the guy?” Jeremy presses.

“I don’t know,” Gavin replies. “Make an impression? As punishment for not paying something he owed him? Warning to everyone else in AC to not cross him?”

“And there was no evidence?”

“He covered it up,” Gavin scoffs. “He always does.”

“But people were there. People got _out_ \- they must’ve seen what happened. They could all tell someone.”

“Who? The police here?” Gavin snorts. “Who will they trust to help them? He does so many corrupt business things that I’m sure there’s some document, evidence, something _somewhere_ that could convict him. But a trial in AC? There’s no justice there.”

“Outside of AC then,” Jeremy insists.

Gavin flaps a hand dismissively.

“Everyone knows what it’s like here,” he says. “Take down the Corpirate, then what? Someone else rises up. You can’t win. What we need is someone to take command who is more… benevolent.”

“Who has a code,” Jeremy mutters, and Gavin grins.

“Exactly! But don’t worry yourself about it, Li’l J,” he adds. “You stay out of all that.”

Jeremy smiles weakly, and falls into a thoughtful silence.

He has his confirmation, at least, that the Corpirate was involved in Decker’s death. With more pushing, Gavin can tell him more - what gangs were involved, who else he can talk to, where he might find something _solid_.

“Can I have your nuggets?” Gavin pipes up, breaking the silence. Jeremy glances up and forces another smile.

“Sure,” he replies, sliding the box across the Gavin. He turns back to watching the rain, the dark sky, the endless dull greyness. With a sudden ferocity, he hates this city. Hates everything about it and how helpless he feels here, how small.

But at least he knows what he’s doing here. At least he’s trying _something_. He turns and looks at Gavin, obliviously eating, and feels another horrible pang of guilt at using him like this.

But he’s making progress, now. He’s getting close to what he wanted from Gavin all along.

He can’t feel bad about that - right?

\---

Things are getting worse at the station.

Jeremy and another cop bring in a young man who hit a woman with his car. She’s in critical condition, there was a toddler in the backseat, and the guy is far and away over the legal alcohol limit. Jeremy has to interview him - he’s an obnoxious little twit, a rich asshole whose father is one of the big names in the city. Obviously guilty, but Larson takes one look at the case and tells him to let it go.

He can’t do anything.

A huge amount of drugs get brought in after a warehouse raid. Only the next day a significant amount of them are missing, right from the evidence room. Jeremy’s the one filing the numbers and when he realises he goes to Larson about it and gets told he must have miscounted, even with the facts right there in front of them.

He can’t do anything.

Worst is when he gets called out one night to a murder investigation. A hysterical 911 call - a family in a low income part of town. The devastated family are at the house when he arrives - two crying kids that can’t be any older than ten years old. A thin, harrowed mother who arrived home from her late shift at work to find her husband shot dead on the front porch. It’s terrible  - it’s _haunting_ \- and Larson’s barely bothered, no one else paying much attention to it.

_Not enough evidence_ , they say.

_Probably drugs._

_Or a gang._

_Too hard to look into._

We can _try_ , Jeremy wants to scream. That’s what we’re here for. That’s what we’re meant to do.

He can’t _do anything._

He’s so tired. Worst of all, what’s wearing down on him the most, is that there’s no one to _talk to_ about it. Even Gavin, who he speaks with every day now, online if not in person, he can’t reveal this to - can’t give so much as a hint about what’s bothering him in case he gives himself away.

At least talking to the other man gets his mind off it a little bit. He can get lost in their conversations - distract himself with the ridiculous things the other man manages to come up with. And it’s good, too, to remind himself that he’s _doing something_ here - that even as he talks to Gavin it’s all part of a plan to make things better, to take down this evil. To do something about it, when no one else will.

But he’s getting too close.

He knows this, objectively. He’s just trying far too hard not to think about it.

The lies are growing more convoluted - Gavin will ask him how uni was that day, what the other people in his course are like, what assignments he’s working on. Jeremy’s shifts start being all over the place, too, and he has to make up lies as to why his timetable is constantly changing. Or Gavin will text him asking if he’s in class and if they can meet up after, and he’ll be on the other side of town doing breath tests by the side of the road or investigating a break-in and have to make up a reason he’s not at uni.

He feels bad every time he lies. He can’t deny it. This started as something useful to him but God help him, he cares about Gavin now, and knowing that the other man doesn’t know _anything_ about who he really is is uncomfortable. And he knows it’s gonna get worse and worse the longer he leaves it - will hurt Gavin more if he ever does find out - but it’s already too late. He doesn’t know what to do except stick with this, and hope it works out. Taking down the Corpirate will be worth it.

And he still believes he _will_. Some might call it stupid. One twenty year old man against the biggest crime lord in the city. No allies, no back up. His only friend a pawn in a game that only he knows he’s playing.

But he has to believe. It’s all he has.

As the weeks pass, he learns more, more that _helps_ him - manages to subtly pry and get the details about the crew that Geoff was working with at the time Decker got killed - as well as more sordid details about everything. That Decker had a tank. That the Corpirate has said tank now. Other big crews in the area who Gavin thinks the Corpirate might go over to next - he doesn’t seem to like talking about it much, like he wants Jeremy to be his respite from the criminal gangs of their world, like he still doesn’t want to corrupt him somehow - but if Jeremy seems curious, he’ll tell stories and answer questions and make predictions about how he thinks the games of power in their city are going to play out. It helps Jeremy keep an eye on things.

But aside from that…

More and more he finds himself not even bothering to bring up the questions he needs to be asking. Just enjoys Gavin’s company, and doesn’t talk about it, and as much as he tries to tell himself that he’s trying to avoid being suspicious so he can get close to the other man, he knows it’s a lie. They’re already close by now. He’s as close as he _can_ be.

Well, nearly.

\---

“Have you told Geoff and Ryan about me?” Jeremy asks.

Gavin looks away.

They’re at dinner. Gavin’s paying - insisted on it, says he has a little income to spare right now. It’s not the classiest restaurant, but they’re both dressed nicely and it’s strange to be going out somewhere properly.

It probably looks like a date. Jeremy realised that as soon as he arrived here. Except it’s _not_ , they just arranged to meet up after Gavin finished at university for the day. And the other man hasn’t said anything that made it seem like a date, but Jeremy finds himself oddly flustered anyway to be out with him so late, in such an intimate setting. And he can’t deny that he notices how good Gavin looks as soon as he sees the other man waiting for him; it’s warm in the restaurant and his coat’s slung over the back of his chair. He’s got a dark, v-neck top on, low enough that Jeremy can see a little hair peeking out over the top of it - a thin chain around his neck drawing attention to his throat, the sharp line of his collarbones - gold sparkling against his tanned skin. It’s simple for once, not too gaudy - but still so essentially _Gavin_. He has to make an effort not to stare.

“I haven’t, actually,” Gavin replies.

“Why not?” Jeremy asks. “Just curious.”

He is relieved, though. His name’s probably uncommon enough that Geoff and Ryan might remember it. He hopes not, but it’s _possible_.

Gavin pauses, chewing at his lip. Jeremy knows that hesitation intimately by now - the pause he always does before revealing something personal. It’s funny that he’s seen it so often by now.  Gavin’s shared so much with him. Jeremy hasn’t shared much back - hasn’t had to. Gavin assumes he has no secrets. He gives off that vibe.

“Ryan and Geoff…” Gavin begins, haltingly. Something awkward in it, like he doesn’t quite know what he’s saying, hasn’t even thought about it properly to himself and struggles now to articulate it. “They’re really close. They work together and they go out together a lot and just _looking_ at them, you can see there’s something there. And I mean, I’m close to Ryan too. It was hard at first - I didn’t trust him. But he’s great. He reminds me of you a bit, actually.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asks, raising his eyebrows.

“He’s a lot taller,” Gavin teases - Jeremy huffs, rolling his eyes, and Gavin laughs - “But seriously, he does. He’s… he’s very kind to me.”

Jeremy nearly chokes on his wine. He feels terrible suddenly, guilt hitting him in the stomach like a punch. That that’s what Gavin associates him with - kindness. _Trust_.

Gavin doesn’t notice, staring down at his plate and twirling pasta around his fork as he continues.

“I’m glad we met him,” he says. “I like him a lot and he’s living with us now and it’s _fun_ but… I can see he and Geoff are really into each other. I dunno. I don’t _mind_. Hell, Geoff needs to get laid. He’s got way too much pent up tension.”

“O-kay,” Jeremy says, and Gavin laughs again.

“No, really, I can see why… they’re a good match. A _really_ good match. And way too chicken shit to do anything about it. But it’s like… I don’t know. I’m scared, I guess. Suppose I feel a bit like a third wheel.”

“Oh, Gavin,” Jeremy says softly - there’s enough awkwardness in the way Gavin interacts with him that he can tell he doesn’t get close to other people often. It makes him feel nearly protective of the other man sometimes. And then guilty.

“I know,” Gavin says, “It’s stupid. Geoff’s told me a bunch of times that it’s not like that, and I know, I _know_ it’s different to what I have with him. But still… Guess I just don’t like to share.”

“It’s not stupid,” Jeremy murmurs. It’s pretty fucking understandable, actually. Given what he knows about Gavin’s upbringing, it’s no wonder he wants to keep anything important to him close, and not let anyone else near it. A possessiveness that comes from not having anything for yourself for so long.

Gavin smiles a bit.

“It’ll all be okay,” he says, and takes a deep breath. “But what they have is special and I guess I just want something special for myself too. You’re kinda my first proper friend apart from them.”

Jeremy’s oddly touched. He supposes he’s noticed it too - how close they’ve gotten. It’s warming to hear that Gavin considers him something precious, something he wants to keep for himself.

“I don’t have many either,” he replies, quietly.

Gavin looks relieved - had tensed up, as though expecting Jeremy to laugh at him. But hearing he feels the same way - a wide grin spreads over his face. Jeremy grins back, and the thought of what he’s really here for doesn’t so much as cross his mind. If it did, he might hate himself.

“I’m sure Geoff will always love you,” he assures Gavin. “But it’s not stupid. It’s understandable. And if they do get together, I’m sure they’ll be very happy. That’s all you want for him, right?”

“‘course,” Gavin says softly. And then, “I’m happy too. With us, this - _you_ ,” he adds, and his cheeks go red, and Jeremy’s heart nearly skips a beat.

It’s not a date.

It’s not a date, but Gavin’s stumbling over his words and Jeremy feels flustered, suddenly, and too aware of how they’ve leaned in close over the table to talk softly to each other, and how his own heart is pounding, and that he feels hot and nervous all over. He doesn’t know what to say, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Good,” he breathes, and Gavin’s smile is beautiful, and Jeremy’s lost in it, this, _them_ , the mission forgotten, at least for now.

\---

He watches Geoff and Ryan more carefully now. After a time, and with the knowledge that Geoff had a job at the docks, he figures out the crew that they’re both working for - not that it helps much. He needs to know who Geoff was with when Decker died. But it helps him keep track of them, start to piece together more about who all the crews in the city are working with. Watching in case Geoff comes up against the Corpirate again.

He sees Gavin out with the two of them, sometimes.

Making a run to the grocery store at a ridiculous hour of the morning. The three of them huddled together under one umbrella - Ryan complaining, hunched over because he’s too tall to fit - Gavin laughing at him only to yelp when Geoff pushes him out into the rain - a fit of screeching when the wind blows the damn thing inside out and Geoff breaks it trying to fix it.

They’re obviously ridiculously close. He can see it, in the grins on their faces, Ryan’s full-bodied laugh that has him throwing his head back. How Gavin huddles under Geoff’s arm to avoid the rain and Ryan puts his hand on both of their shoulders to hurry them into the store. He sees the fond smiles Ryan shoots Gavin, and the lingering looks shared between him and Geoff, and how easily Geoff grabs Gavin’s hand and tugs him back when a car moving through the parking lot outside the store passes too close to them.

Other times.

Geoff and Ryan stopping to pick up Gavin on the way back from work - all of them going out to dinner afterwards, walking through the park together with cheap hot dogs, Ryan still in his dark leather jacket and Geoff in a suit.

Or Geoff and Gavin barhopping together - not drinking as much as making money, Gavin ending up with what Jeremy can see are pocketfuls of cash and jewellery, Geoff keeping an eye on him. Alcohol making them affectionate, walking home afterwards with Geoff’s arm slung over Gavin’s shoulders and their laughter echoing through the empty streets.

It’s plain to see that the three of them love each other. Not all in the same way - Geoff and Gavin’s easy familiarity born from years of knowing each other - the awkward almost-something between Geoff and Ryan, both aware of their interest in the other - the brotherly fondness between Ryan and Gavin.

It should enrage him, knowing what they do. That Geoff makes deals, that Ryan kills people, that Gavin steals. But watching them here and now - from a careful distance away, lest Gavin recognise him - he’s filled with a different, intense sort of longing; there they are, together, _happy_. Here he is, alone. _Liar_.

\---

“I have something for you,” Gavin says, one of the next times they meet up.

It’s probably a bit strange by now, how they haven’t run out of things to talk about. Sometimes they don’t even talk - just walk together in silence, or play phone games, or go for a drink - Jeremy looks forward to it every day, beyond just trying to find more information. Sometimes he doesn’t even bother asking questions. Tells himself he just wants to work on getting closer to gain Gavin’s trust - but they _are_ close by now. Sometimes, he’s just too tired. Just wants to hang out with a friend. The rest becomes an excuse.

“Something?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Gavin nods, something shy in it. He fishes around in his pocket - they’re sitting together on a park bench near the uni, watching the ducks in a nearby pond. After a moment, he produces a gold chain, and Jeremy’s eyes widen.

“See, it has a ‘J’ on it,” Gavin says - there’s a gold charm on it; it’s a girl’s necklace, probably, but simple enough that anyone could wear it. “This sort of chain is really good. It’s thin but well strong.”

“Gavin…” Jeremy looks up, and there’s something too earnest in the other man’s eyes. “Did you steal it?”

“No, I bought it,” Gavin insists.

“Did you buy it with stolen money?”

Gavin looks away.

“Well, all my money’s stolen,” he grumbles. “You don’t like it?”

There’s still something oddly childlike to him. Petulant and insistent - Jeremy bites his lip. He does like it - it’s thoughtful, and very pretty, and simple enough to be the sort of thing he’d wear. And he likes that it means as much to Gavin as it would to him.

But he can’t start accepting _gifts_ from Gavin - let alone ones bought with stolen money - it makes him feel like the cops who accept bribes and presents from the gangs in order to get a pass, it would be dishonest, corrupt, even-

But Gavin looks so upset now, even if he’s struggling to hide it under a mask of indifference, that Jeremy feels terrible. When Gavin starts to pull his hand back, he reaches out and grabs at his wrist.

“Wait,” he says - Gavin glances up at him, then looks down at their hands - Jeremy’s not gripping him too tightly, but his hand fits easily around Gavin’s wrist. After a moment he slides it down to fold around the other man’s hand instead.

“Thought you didn’t care about the stealing,” Gavin points out. “Besides, it’s from all different people’s money. They all contributed, like, a dollar. Some of those rich bastards wouldn’t pick that up if they dropped it on the footpath anyway.”

Jeremy can’t help but laugh at how matter-of-factly he says it. Gavin huffs, but there’s something tentative and shy in his eyes and Jeremy doesn’t let himself think about what he’s doing as he unfolds the other man’s fingers and takes the necklace.

“It’s nice. Thank you.”

“Let me put it on you,” Gavin says eagerly, and Jeremy turns. Gavin’s arms loop around his neck as he wraps the chain around his throat and clasps it at the back. Jeremy has to fight back a shiver at the other man being pressed so close against him. He turns around when Gavin’s finished to find the other man staring at him, at the little gold ‘J’ nestled right over his sternum.

“How’s it look?” he asks, and Gavin’s eyes snap up.

“Good,” he says, and gives a thumbs up. Jeremy smiles, and Gavin’s grin back is full of such pure joy that it washes every other doubt from his mind.

\---

A job goes wrong soon after that.

Jeremy’s called, along with Larson, to a shopping centre where a very drunk man is causing a disturbance. Fairly tame stuff compared to most issues in Achievement City, but the man is big, and very angry, and when Jeremy darts in and tries to restrain him he catches a punch to the eye amidst all the man’s drunken flailing.

He lands flat on his back, sees stars, and has a hell of a shiner within the hour.

It’s the icing on the cake of what’s an overall shitty day, and he knows he can’t see Gavin after that. Won’t know how to explain. So he goes home and messages the other man and pretends like he’s got the flu and they don’t see each other as he waits for the bruise to disappear.

That makes it worse somehow, not being able to meet up with and see him. Now he has nothing but miserable days in the police station office, his eye throbbing, Larson cracking unfunny jokes every few minutes. He feels lethargic, miserable, useless after each day that turns out to be unproductive no matter how hard he tries to do his fucking job.

Naturally, he then runs into Gavin when he’s least expecting it.

He’s just taken a long night shift, went home and crashed for a few hours, and now he’s wandered to the nearby shopping centre nearly in a daze, unsure what time it is but only driven by the intense need for groceries. He’s wandering through the bright aisles of the shopping centre, feeling weirdly dizzy and displaced, like he’s in some sort of dream.

At least, until a voice calling out his name brings him crashing back to reality.

“Jeremy?”

_Gavin_ , he thinks. He’d recognise that accent anywhere. A jolt of panic rips through him - he stiffens, realising with horror that he’s wearing an ACPD t-shirt, threw it on without thinking that he’d run into anyone - he zips up his hoodie quickly. He looks pathetic, he realises - sloppy, unshaven, bruised. His cart may or may not be full of nothing but chocolate and Easy Mac. Look, at this point he will eat whatever he damn wants.

“Gav?” he asks, turning.

Gavin’s wandering across the store towards him. He’s grinning and waving, but falters when he catches sight of Jeremy’s face.

“Li’l J!” he exclaims, sounding upset. “What happened to you?”

He rushes over and lets out a rather distressed noise at the sight of Jeremy’s face.

“Nothing,” Jeremy lies rather awkwardly.

“Someone hit you!” Gavin cries, and Jeremy grimaces. He can’t exactly hide it - there are fucking knuckle marks over his cheekbone.

“Got into a… drunken altercation a few nights back. Some guy hit me by accident - wrong place, wrong time kinda thing.”

It’s not his most eloquent excuse, but Gavin doesn’t seem to notice. He’s gripping Jeremy’s arm now as he leans in, his other hand coming up to gently tilt Jeremy’s face up and examine the bruise. Jeremy stands, frozen, as Gavin’s fingers trace over his skin. He fights back a shiver at the light, carefully gentle touch. There’s something too intimate about this suddenly, especially when Gavin meets his eyes and he realises just how close their faces are.

“It’s fine, Gav,” he whispers. “Really, it barely even hurts any more.”

“Poor Jeremy,” Gavin coos. His hand drops and Jeremy closes his eyes for a moment, missing the warm contact. “Are you still sick?”

For a moment Jeremy can’t even remember his own lie. Then he jolts, and nods.

“Yeah, I - um - feeling better now.” He hefts his shopping basket. “Was just about to go home and take it easy for a bit.”

Gavin’s eyes go to his shopping basket and crinkle in amusement. Jeremy really thinks he is not one to judge considering what he knows about the other man’s eating habits.

“You don’t look too hot,” Gavin murmurs, looking up - and suddenly Jeremy knows he’s not talking about the bruise, but the _something-else_ that no one else really knows about. How this city is wearing him down, slowly but steadily. How he’s worried soon it’ll take everything from him and he’ll have nothing left.

But he has Gavin here, now, looking at him with such deep concern that it touches him, warms him, grounds him and makes him feel real again.

“I’ll be okay,” he replies, and believes it, and Gavin smiles before leaning forward and pulling him into a hug right then and there in the middle of the supermarket.

Jeremy stiffens, surprised - then hugs him back with an intensity that surprises even himself. Gavin is warm, and fits perfectly against him, his chin tucked over Jeremy’s head, Jeremy’s arms wrapped tightly around him. It’s nice just to be held - soothes and settles him. He feels so much better when they pull apart that an intense gratitude swells up in his chest and he manages a smile back up at Gavin.

“Thanks, Gav,” he murmurs, and Gavin grins and tilts his head.

“Do you want me to take you anywhere?” he replies, and Jeremy shakes his head - still really just wants to go home, but feels much better now about it, his flat not seeming to hold that depressing emptiness that it previously did.

“I’m fine. But let’s meet up again soon,” he says, and Gavin nods. He heads back away to whatever he was doing here before - stealing something, probably - and glances over his shoulder at Jeremy, who watches him leave with a fond smile and an odd fullness in his chest.

\---

It’s probably a bad idea to be here.

The university. Night time. Loud music thumping, too many crowded bodies jostling close to each other. If things get much wilder, the police might get called, and won’t Jeremy be in for it then?

But Gavin sounded so excited when he asked Jeremy to come to this party with him that he couldn’t say no. He’s not even sure _whose_ party it is, just that a whole lot of very rich people seem to be there and he feels incredibly out of place, like any moment now everyone will turn to look at him. _You don’t belong_.

It’s some sort of fancy-dress business, but all he could muster up was a cowboy hat (unless he’d just put on his uniform and pretended it was a cop costume, hah! That would have gone down well). He weaves his way between people, trying to find Gavin, who left for drinks a while ago and then never returned.

An elbow catches him in the head and he stumbles, yelping. Turns over his shoulder to find a platinum blonde woman tottering by on ridiculously high heels. She’s dressed in what Jeremy can only assume is some sort of rendition of ‘sexy teletubby’, which is the most surreal part of the entire experience.

“Sorry, hun!” she screams over her shoulder. Jeremy rubs his head, bemused, and turns away only to bump clean into someone else. Fuck, it’s too crowded here.

“Li’l J,” a voice says, and someone grabs his arm.

He’s relieved to hear - and _feel_ \- Gavin, pressed up against him and seeming to steady him against the waves of people surging around them. His heart pounds at how close the other man suddenly is, having appeared out of nowhere. He can smell Gavin’s aftershave, feels him squeeze his arm before tugging him gently away from everyone else.

“What took you so long?” he asks, stumbling after him until they’re clear of the mass of people. Gavin’s not dressed up, not really - all he has is a hat with a feather in it. Apparently he’s Robin Hood. That’s not funny, Jeremy had said, to which Gavin just snickered. _Steal from the rich, give to the poor - I’m the poor. So I just keep everything I take_. That’s not how it works, Jeremy had informed him, to no avail. “Dude, you didn’t even get drinks!”

“Got something better,” Gavin says. He reaches out and touches the side of Jeremy’s head where he got elbowed; Jeremy flinches, but can’t help leaning into the touch after a moment. Gavin seems different tonight. More confident, more sure of himself. Jeremy isn’t sure why.

He reaches into his pocket and produces some keys, twirling them around his finger. Jeremy blinks, unsure.

“What are those for?”

“A very expensive motorbike belonging to a very enormous asshole,” Gavin replies, with a cheeky grin. “I just nicked them from him! This place is a goldmine, Jeremy. Everyone’s drunk. Almost everyone’s a twat. Ripe pickings, right?”

“Did you just invite me here to be an accessory to your crimes?” Jeremy asks, but it comes out teasing more than anything, and Gavin laughs.

“No! I invited you here to have fun. Let’s go,” he says, and grabs Jeremy’s hand, tugging him along before he can protest.

“Wait! What - where are we going? Gav!” Jeremy protests, but is laughing too hard to really resist as Gavin leads him across the grounds of the university residency to a nearby car park. It’s deserted, everyone still at the party, and he leads the way to a large and bright red motorbike. Jeremy hesitates.

“Gav…”

“Come on,” Gavin says. “Just for a spin. We’ll bring it back.”

Jeremy pauses. But the night already feels unreal, with the uni empty except for the costumed students, and he’s had one drink already, and Gavin smiling at him so brightly. He gives in.

“Just a quick one,” he says, and Gavin’s grin widens. He unlocks the helmet from where it’s clipped to the seat and hands it to Jeremy, who pauses again, worried that Gavin won’t be safe if he takes it - but the other man’s already climbing on the bike, and after a moment Jeremy puts on the helmet and gets on after him. Wraps his arms around Gavin’s narrow waist and holds on tight as Gavin puts the bike in ignition and pulls out of the carpark.

\---

Jeremy rides motorbikes regularly, but never as a passenger. Gavin seems to know what he’s doing - he doesn’t go too fast, mindful that he himself has no helmet - takes careful turns, avoids the busiest roads.

Jeremy soon grows to enjoy it - the thrum of the bike under him, the dark streets around the uni slipping by around them. His arms wrapped around Gavin. After a moment he leans forward and rests his head against the other man’s back. It’s comfortable, fit up against him like this. The motorcycle’s vibrations sending a constant shivering pulse through both their bodies.

“Do you trust me?” Gavin yells over his shoulder, finally.

Jeremy jolts, jerked out of the daze he’d slipped into, conscious only of adjusting his balance now and then. He looks up to see Gavin, twisted over his shoulder - they’re still, now - green eyes twinkling.

“Yes.” It slips out. He barely thinks about it - Gavin gets a wicked grin.

“Hold on tight. Let’s see what this engine’s got.”

Jeremy realises, vaguely, that they’ve pulled away from the city into the older, mostly abandoned industrial area in Northern AC. It’s not a good place - the sort of location where gangs meet up, where people drag prisoners out to execute - but it’s a wider, more open space, and before he can take it in Gavin revs the bike into its full speed and Jeremy yells and clings tightly to his waist.

He hears the other man laugh. Feels it too, his whole body shaking, chest heaving under Jeremy’s arms. Then the roar of the engine takes over as they lurch forward and they’re _off_ , moving faster than Jeremy can ever remember. Grass flashes by, the walls of factory buildings - the wind tears across him, exhilarating - he feels like he’s flying. He hears himself let out a distant whoop, adrenaline coursing through him, drug-like, euphoric, as they tear about the area.

He clings to Gavin for dear life as they sweep around an old factory, then Gavin swerves the bike through an open gate and around two large metal pipes. Between a thin lane of buildings - like rushing through a tunnel, two walls close by them, sudden shield from the wind - his ears pop - and back into the open. Black sky above them - a fallen sign up ahead - Jeremy barely takes it in before they’re zooming up over the makeshift ramp and launching through the air.

He might’ve screamed. He clutches Gavin tightly as they seem to soar, slowly, nothing but open air around them. The thrill that surges through him sets his very veins on fire. Gavin laughs, again - high and wild and _free_ -

And then back down, landing with a jolt that has Jeremy rocking up against Gavin’s back again.

They slow down, drawing back over near one of the factories. Gavin pulls the bike to a halt and they sit, panting raggedly, catching their breath.

Jeremy pulls the helmet off. The cold night air against his face is a refreshing hit.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, and Gavin lets out a breathless laugh. Then slaps his leg.

“Come on,” he says, and scrambles off the bike, holding out a hand.

Jeremy takes it and climbs off too. His legs wobble and Gavin laughs, steadying him.

“Careful, J.”

“I’m good. Shit. That was something.”

“Need a minute?”

“No, I’m fine.” He straightens up. Grins at Gavin, who grins back. It’s dark out here, away from the lights of the city, but the bike’s headlights are still on and there’s a big moon in the sky. Gavin leads him over to a nearby building and a ladder leading up some scaffolding to a metal platform. Jeremy climbs after him on shaky legs and they sit next to each other, knees pressed together. After the bike ride it still feels like everything’s moving around him. Like if the sky were clear enough to see stars he’d be able to see the very turn of the Earth written above them.

Gavin hums next to him.

“Enjoy that?” he asks, and Jeremy can’t help his grin.

“Hell yeah. Where’d you learn to ride like that?”

“Back in England. Friend of mine had bikes, and taught me. I’ve taken some joyrides since I got here. Never owned any myself, though. I want to. It’d make it easier to get around. One day,” he adds, wistfully, and Jeremy reaches out and puts a hand over his.

“One day,” he murmurs back. Gavin looks at him and smiles.

Jeremy can only stare at him. And something feels different. Maybe because of the adrenaline, still pumping through him. Maybe because they’re properly _alone_ for the first time, not meeting in public. Here in the silence outside the city.

But all he can see is _Gavin_ , with a swell of adoration in his chest. Funny, clever Gavin who always has some scheme or trick up his sleeve. Gavin who’s careful, slow to trust, but has let him in so completely. Gavin with his quick fingers, who’s fast and cunning and can ride a bike so well - who takes such mischievous glee in everything he does. He is magnificent, suddenly. The centre of the world with some gravitational pull drawing Jeremy helplessly in.

Jeremy can’t tell who’s the first to lean in. Both of them, probably - minutely, unsure, gaze locked on each other. Lips parted a little, silent. Everything seems to go still around them.

There’s a hesitation in both of them. And then, as though some invisible signal has passed, they close the gap between them, lips meeting in a slow and gentle press.

That’s it. The dam breaks. Jeremy’s lost. He kisses Gavin tentatively at first, but can’t hold back long - the next thing he knows his hand’s tangled in the other man’s hair, and Gavin’s hands are up on his shoulders, and then they’re pressed as close as they can get. They surge together - pull apart, then back in - Gavin lets out a small whimper and it fuels Jeremy on, has him tugging gently at the other’s hair until he angles his head into a position where Jeremy can kiss him more deeply.

Time seems to stand still, his senses drowned out by _Gavin, Gavin._ Finally, they break apart, and this time when they lean back in, their lips don’t meet, foreheads coming to rest together instead. Gavin’s warm, feverish almost, and Jeremy’s heart is like a hummingbird in his chest. He keeps his eyes closed, revelling in these last lingering, electric moments.

“Well, then,” Gavin breathes, finally.

Jeremy huffs out a laugh. He opens his eyes and finally pulls back, only to come up short with a startled yelp, meeting resistance. Gavin squeaks at the same time, and Jeremy realises that his own gold ‘J’ necklace is tangled up in all the jewellery around the other man’s throat.

Their eyes meet, shocked. Then Gavin snorts and cracks up laughing, and Jeremy can’t help but break down too, hysterically. His fingers meeting Gavin’s as they both go to untangle themselves.

“It’s fate,” Gavin says, and his voice is light and happy, and Jeremy feels like he’s floating. Like here tonight, they are free - like they’ve risen up among the gleeful stars, far above the smoke and smog that’s drowned them out for decades - outside the city, outside the system, outside the lies. Just the two of them, and how _right_ it felt - that’s the only thing present in his mind.

He doesn’t know if this was the best decision he’s ever made, or the worst mistake of his life. He doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t care.

For now, them.

\---

If it is fate - and God, it must be, the way it plays out - then fate, it turns out, is a bastard.

Things all go to shit barely two days later. Jeremy hasn’t seen Gavin since that night, but it’s not like things are awkward, even if they didn’t talk about the kiss afterwards. Just laid there, and talked for a long time as the night wore on. About Geoff and Ryan, about their families, about this city - he let Gavin speak, mostly. The other man told him a lot of things - some dream he and Geoff have - Jeremy listening, rapt.

It should have appalled him, maybe. Their desire to manipulate everyone else in the city into falling apart, to end up on top and take control.

But the way Gavin described it… it sounded like a mission, a creed, a path to a better world. Some way of building the city into something _better_ , just like Jeremy wants to. He does know, after all, that good people here are few and far between. Maybe the lesser of two evils is the best they can get.

All he does that night is listen. Doesn’t think about his own quest - doesn’t let the thought of what he’s using Gavin for so much as cross his mind. That isn’t what things are about, not then. He just lies there, wrapped up in the lilt of Gavin’s voice, his warmth next to him, how his eyes light up and his voice rises as he gets passionate.

And then they drove back to the party, and hugged tightly, and didn’t talk about it, and went home.

But he’s excited for the next time they meet - to see where this takes them - has forgotten just how _bad_ a situation this is, how he shouldn’t want this, how this could all go so horribly wrong.

He doesn’t forget for long. Reality comes back to him like a punch in the fucking face.

He’s been on paperwork and office duty for so long the last few weeks that when Larson calls him out on an arrest he jumps at the chance, surprised but glad to be out in the field again.

“Disturbance in a pub,” Larson says as they head out. And then, “Who’s drinking this damn early?”

This coming from someone who Jeremy sees pouring rum in every one of the six coffees that he drinks throughout the day.

They arrive at the pub quickly - sirens blaring, excited - it’s in a dingy part of town, but oddly busy even at this hour. They get out, bystanders staring at the sight of the cops showing up. As they charge in, Jeremy’s blissfully unaware that everything in his life is about to change. Or maybe it already has, the second he made the decision to approach Gavin at university, the second he began all this - everything that he’s been putting from his mind.

They enter the pub with a shout of, “Police!”

He freezes.

There’s broken glass on the floor, a table and chairs overturned. A handful of patrons are standing by the side of the room, muttering amongst themselves - the owner, nearby, watching with his arms folded. And in the middle of the room, a massive, red-faced man is holding onto Gavin, restraining him with one arm twisted up behind his back - the guy looks furious, and Gavin’s face is pale and strained, hunched over nearly double with the way the man’s holding him.

“At _last_ ,” the guy roars, when they enter. He’s a huge man, looks like a biker of some sort, tough - it’s not a very nice sort of pub - “The fucking police grace us with their presence!”

“I called,” the owner pipes up. He looks very disgruntled as he turns to Larson. “He didn’t want to-”

“I wanted to deal with this little bitch myself,” the man snarls. “He stole my fucking wallet, or tried to.”

_Shit, Gavin,_ Jeremy can only think with a sinking feeling. _Shit, shit, you just had to get caught-_

The biker shakes Gavin roughly and Gavin takes the chance to get a leg up and kick him hard in the groin. The man drops like a stone and Gavin turns to run-

Only to look up, and see Jeremy standing there in uniform, and _freeze_. He stumbles, shocked, and Larson charges forward and grabs him, slamming him face down against the nearest table. He cries out in pain and Jeremy’s heart clenches.

“Jeremy,” Larson snaps.

Jeremy can only stand there, shell-shocked.

There’s a funny roaring in his ears. _This can’t be happening_ , is all he can think. It’s a nightmare, a daze - but it _is_ happening, and Gavin’s not even resisting now. Just standing there with his cheek pressed to the table, staring at Jeremy. Shock, hurt, _fear_ in his eyes - Jeremy can see him struggling to understand, to wrap his head around this. All he can do is stare helplessly back.

He feels like he might throw up.

He should have known all along that this would happen. For God’s sake, he _kissed Gavin_ the other night. How could he not realise that he’d gotten too close, that this could only end badly?

But he’d deluded himself into thinking it was fine. He’d almost convinced _himself_ that he wasn’t a liar, that he hadn’t started all this as a game of pretend. He got in too deep, fell hard and fast, didn’t think about what he was doing - the pain he was causing - even at that turning point when he began to realise that it wasn’t just about the Corpirate any more. That Gavin was important to him too.

He’d fooled _himself_ along with Gavin. Got caught up in his own lies, this second life he’d created. Innocent Jeremy and the Bad Boy. Someone worthy of Gavin’s trust.

Not any more.

He can see Gavin shutter down a wall as he realises what’s happened - his eyes burning, looking for the first time like he might actually cry as it dawns on him everything that is going on here.

“Jeremy!” Larson yells again.

Jeremy steps forward, numbly, barely aware of his own movements. He takes out his handcuffs.

“You’re under arrest,” he hears himself say. Gavin’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t struggle as Jeremy snaps the cuffs around his wrists - Larson reaches out and pulls them tighter before hauling Gavin upright.

The movement brings him face to face with Jeremy. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and Jeremy doesn’t know what to do or say.

_I’m sorry,_ is all he can think, in nearly physical pain at the betrayal on Gavin’s face. He’s the worst scum of the earth - as bad as anyone else here - he can see the anger and hurt in Gavin’s eyes and worst of all how he’s retreated into himself. That lost child that Jeremy keeps seeing under his surface rising to the fore.

“Prosecute the fucker!” cries the biker, who clearly does not know much about what is going on here.  
  
“Jeremy, stay here and talk to that guy,” Larson mutters. “Show him how to press charges.”

Jeremy nods, mutely. He watches Larson march Gavin out. The other man doesn’t so much as resist, stumbling numbly along, not looking back.

Jeremy watches him go. Everything feels cold.

He has his information now, his leads, to start tracking the Corpirate properly. Everything he wanted, right?

But he can’t stop thinking about the look on Gavin’s face - how this suddenly feels like the worst that he’s ever hurt somebody. How he doesn’t know what to do, now, can’t even fathom how _wrong_ this feels, every justification he’s made along the way returning to slap him in the face now with how stupid they all seem, how callous.

_Was it worth it?_ he thinks. And the answer is very clear.

_No.  
_


	3. ryan

**iii. ryan**

“Gavin?” Ryan calls out, tentatively, as he steps into the alleyway. “Gav, it’s me, I’m here.”

The place looks like a scene from a horror movie - a thin lane between two old buildings, so narrow that Ryan wouldn’t be able to stretch both arms out all the way if he’d wanted to. Old dumpsters, piled up garbage bags stinking of refuse. Broken needles littering the floor. A dead end alley, so dark because the buildings are tall that it almost feels like night. A dead body wouldn’t be out of place here. He’s half expecting a zombie to jump out at him any minute now.

He hopes this is the right place. It’s the address Gavin sent him, after all, in a series of frantic texts that made Ryan drop everything he was doing and come rushing over.

_please come get me, ryan_

_i need help, please_

_as quick as yuo cn_

_I need you to cme right now_

Most chilling of all was the lack of grammar - in a surprising twist, Ryan had learned since they became friends that Gavin was the most proper texter of everyone he knew. Typos had never been so ominous.

He takes another step forward, boots crunching against the broken glass on the ground.

“Gav?” he calls out again, and there’s a rustle from the darkness.

Ryan steps closer, and makes out a form huddled on the ground behind one of the dumpsters. He rushes forward, dropping to crouch next to Gavin, pulling his mask off as he does.

“Gavin! Shit, you scared me - are you okay? What happened? What’s all this?”

“Ryan,” Gavin chokes out, and there’s something so ragged and broken in his voice that Ryan freezes, stomach sinking. Gavin reaches up and grips at the front of his jacket, and Ryan notices that one hand is swollen dark with bruises, and there’s a handcuff dangling from the wrist of the other. Worse than that, though, is the look in Gavin’s eyes.

_Defeated._

Ryan’s seen Gavin wary, scared, tired, upset before - but never that. There’s always been a reckless defiance in everything he does, like he’s trying to prove something to the world.

That’s gone now, and Ryan can only think that something very, very bad has happened here.

“Gavin, what’s wrong? What happened to your hand?”

“I fucked up,” Gavin whispers, still clinging to him. “I fucked up so badly, Ryan, I…” He trails off with a choked noise.

Ryan looks around the alley. There’s no immediate danger that he can see.

“Are we safe? Let’s get you out of here first.”

“Police,” Gavin murmurs, and Ryan’s gaze falls to the handcuff. “I lost them, but. Yeah - yeah, let’s go.”

Ryan pulls him to his feet. Gavin stays pressed close against his side. It’s concerning - he’s tactile and affectionate once he gets to know people, but he’s also fiercely independent, and rarely likes to show weakness. Ryan can’t think what’s happened.

But it’s not the place to discuss that here, and he wraps an arm around Gavin and leads him back over to where he left the car.

\---

They’re halfway through the drive home when Gavin stirs. Ryan looks over at him.

They’ve been travelling in silence. Gavin was leaning his head against the window, staring vacantly out. Ryan had let him be, aside from checking him over for injury. He’d seemed nearly in shock and Ryan had wanted to let him gather himself.

Now he shifts, and when Ryan looks over at him, their eyes meet. Gavin’s are red, upset, looking far too young and sad.

“So,” Ryan says quietly. “Got arrested, huh?”

Gavin lets out a very tired sigh. He picked the lock of the other cuff when they got in the car, but his wrist is red and sore looking now.

“Yeah,” he replies quietly, voice thick. “Got careless.”

“Where’d it happen?” Ryan prompts.

“Bar nearby. It was crowded - I thought he wouldn’t notice. But then someone bumped me into him and he felt me trying to lift his wallet. Grabbed me before I could get away.” He rubs his arm. “One of the cops was taking me back to the station. But I broke out of the cuffs and attacked him and managed to get out of the car and run.”

“Shit, Gavin,” Ryan mutters. The younger man’s jeans are ripped and bloody, knees scraped raw where he jumped out of a moving car.

The thought of him frantically having to attack some cop to escape is distressing. Ryan knows it’s part and parcel of what they do - that Gavin can more than take care of himself - but seeing how listless he is now has something parental and protective rising up in him.

“What else happened?” he asks, because that was a close call, but it doesn’t explain _this_ , why Gavin’s so subdued and anxious.

Gavin’s face clouds over. He turns back out the window, and Ryan thinks he’s not gonna answer - but he speaks, finally, voice thick and choked.

“I… I’ve been so stupid, Ryan.”

“For getting caught? That’s not-”

“No! That’s not… I’ve been a bloody fool, I… I should’ve known…” he trails off, breathing heavily - reaches up and grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes. Ryan waits, patiently.

Finally Gavin takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“There was a boy.” He speaks quickly, quietly, his voice tight and carefully flat. “That night I got mugged, remember? I told you a guy saved me.”

“I remember,” Ryan replies.

That’d been a bad night.

Geoff was stressed out, both of them furious and worried. That shit - muggings, robberies - it happens every day in AC, but to one of their own - to _Gavin -_ seeing him hurt was hard. They’d only been grateful someone had stepped in before it got worse.

“He… about a week later he showed up at uni. Told me he was a student there. We got talking and we… we became friends, I guess. We’ve been talking a lot and going out a lot together for… God, it must be a couple of months now.”

Ryan frowns. He and Geoff have noticed that Gavin’s not home as much, that he spends more time on his phone or in his room alone. They didn’t think much of it, just that he was getting busier with the smuggling jobs he’s been taking for O’Shannassy.

To hear that there’s a secret friend - someone it sounds like he’s really fucking _close_ to - is shocking. But he doesn’t say anything, just listens, patiently.

“He… I thought he was just a history student. Just some stupid kid who didn’t know anything about what it was like here. He asked me things - God, I told him so _much_. About us, about what we do, about the Corpirate and the gangs around here. I thought he was just fucking curious. He played it so well. I thought… he made me think he cared about me, I _trusted_ him and you know… you know how hard that is.”

Ryan nods, pained - unsure where this is going, but only knowing it can’t be good.

“We got close,” Gavin says softly, and his face twists as he looks away, fists clenching at his sides. “We… we got really, _really_ close, I… but then today, when I got arrested, when the police showed up…”

Oh, shit.

“He was a plant,” Gavin cries. “He was one of _them_ , he - he must’ve been pretending this whole bloody time! He… he…”

He trails off, voice cracking, and Ryan slows the car, reaching out and gripping at his hand.

“Gavin…”

“I fucked up. I told him so much. I _trusted_ him. I… I really liked him, Ryan, we…” he falters, shaking his head, but he doesn’t have to explain. Ryan _gets it_ , and rage is welling up alongside his concern now. “And all along it was a lie. All along I was just _stupid_. Everything I thought we had - it wasn’t real.”

He buries his head in his hands. Ryan doesn’t know what to say.

“It wasn’t real,” Gavin whispers again after a moment. “Stupid, _stupid_ -”

“You’re not stupid,” Ryan insists. He shakes Gavin’s arm gently. “You’re not, this is all on him, playing you like that. What a _dick_.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him-”

“He used your emotions, that’s… no one should do that.” There’s a dark fury in his voice now, though he tries to hold it back. The thought of anyone manipulating Gavin like that, of managing to worm their way under his defences only to attack him from inside - it makes him feel sick. It makes him want to hurt somebody. Nearly scares him with how furious it makes him.

“He’s only my age,” Gavin murmurs, still looking away. “I never thought… I don’t know. I’m usually so _careful_.”

There’s still a defeated whisper to his tone, and Ryan hates it. Hates to see him broken like this, so worn down and vulnerable.

“Hey,” he says again. “This is not your fault, alright? Geoff and I will fix it, we’ll sort it all out. Don’t worry, okay?”

Gavin’s lips twitch humourlessly. Ryan feels helpless, but Gavin sighs after a moment, leaning back against the headrest before turning to look at him.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” he says.

Ryan smiles.

“Why’d you ask me?” he asks. “I mean, I’m glad to help. I was worried when I got your messages. But Geoff would’ve come just as quickly, I would’ve figured he’d be your first call.”

And he’s glad that Gavin trusts him enough now to come to him for help - knows that they’re good friends by now - but still. Geoff is the person Gavin’s closest to in all the world.

Gavin looks away, fidgeting nervously with the strings of his hoodie.

“I’m scared to tell him what happened,” he admits.

“What? He won’t be angry with you.”

“I’ve compromised everything. He knows where we live, Ryan, he… I basically admitted to a fuckload of crimes. He knows the gangs you work for. He might’ve been recording me when we spoke. Shit, I told this guy the fucking _dream_ , Ryan.”

Ryan bites his lip. Remembers just how long it took for them to tell _him_ about that. He knows how important it is. This guy must have been really close to Gavin.

“Geoff could never be mad at you for something like this,” he insists. “He’ll be furious at the other guy.”

“It’s not just that.” He kicks angrily at the footwell. “It’s… it’s humiliating, innit? I was played for a fool, I liked him _so much_. All the times we went out together, everything we did, everything we said. Everything he _told me_ \- that it was okay, that he understood why we do all this. And all along he’s a bloody pig!”

“Bastard,” Ryan agrees enthusiastically. And then, “What’s this asshole’s name?”

Gavin opens his mouth, falters, and then looks away.

“Jeremy,” he whispers. It barely gets out, tapering away at the end into a miserable silence.

There’s a nagging familiarity to the name and it takes Ryan a moment to place it. When it does, alarm shoots through him.

“Wait,” he says - Gavin’s head snaps up - “Short guy? Stocky? Brown hair and a beard?”

“You know him?” Gavin demands, eyes wide.

“Fuck! He came to the house once, with some other cop. They were investigating Decker’s death. He must’ve recognised it when he brought you home - realised you knew us.”

Gavin blinks a few times. Then another wave of misery passes across his face as he seems to realise just how deeply he’s been played, how this has been planned from the start. It’s like a stab to Ryan’s chest - he drives on, heading home. Fuming as he thinks about that fucking police cadet targeting Gavin as a way to get to them. Christ. He could kill him. The thought passes through his head - a fleeting notion, more than anything else - but then upsets him, suddenly. That that’s a solution he could ever settle on. That it’s become something he even _thinks_ about - he pushes it away, uncomfortable.

“The worst part is,” Gavin chokes out finally. “It’s not even the danger that we might be in now. That’s probably selfish, right? It’s not that he tried to get information from me. It’s that I already fucking miss him - it feels like the guy I was friends with is dead. Like he never existed at all. I’m so… it feels like I’ve lost something, more than anything else. I don’t know.”

He turns away, and Ryan can see him closing off again. Quickly, he pulls over by the side of the road - they're nearly home now - and turns to face Gavin properly, reaching out and grabbing both his hands.

“Hey,” he says, and Gavin stares up at him, eyes red - Ryan pulls him into a hug. It’s awkward, with the seatbelts and Gavin’s momentary surprise - but after a moment the other man hugs him back fiercely, burying his face in Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan wraps his arms around him tightly, running a hand over his back, hating that he can feel the other man trembling.

“We’ll sort it out,” he murmurs again. “You’ll be okay. You still have me and Geoff, okay?”

“Not the same,” Gavin chokes out, and Ryan closes his eyes briefly, upset.

“I know,” he replies, and feels another pang at the thought that someone has broken this kid again, put all his trust issues back. He can’t forgive that.

“But everything will be okay eventually,” he continues, desperately. “I’ll sort this out, Geoff will. None of this is your fault. Okay?”

He draws back to look Gavin in the eye. Gavin stares back up at him, and he doesn’t agree but he does lean back in after a moment, hugging Ryan tightly again. Ryan holds him close.

\---

“I want you to tell him,” Gavin informs Ryan, upon a frantic Geoff arriving home after a text message summons. He’s sitting swathed on the couch in blankets with a soothing cup of tea beside him.

Geoff, on the other hand, paces distressedly around the room as Ryan calmly informs him of everything that’s happened. When he finishes, Geoff stands in silence for a moment, head bowed, fists clenched. Then reaches up, and loosens his bowtie, and goes and pours his own soothing cup. In his case, of vodka.

Gavin watches him with wide eyes. When Geoff doesn’t speak, he grows nervous.

“I should’ve told you guys from the start who I was talking to,” he begins. “I’m sorry, Geoff.”

Geoff downs two shots and takes a deep breath.

“Not your fault, kiddo,” he says, and Gavin’s shoulders relax visibly.

Geoff looks up and meets Ryan’s eyes - he’s sitting at the table, and stares back at the other man solemnly. He can see the worry, the fear, the anger lurking in Geoff’s face. And under that, a helpless disappointment - with _himself_ , Ryan knows. There’s nothing he could’ve done, yet he blames himself anyway for not somehow preventing this. Protecting Gavin.

“Shit,” Geoff utters finally. “Okay. Let’s consider this.”

He walks over and sits on the arm of the couch beside Gavin, bottle still in hand.

“Has he told anyone else what you told him?” he asks, forced calm in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Gavin admits. “I don’t know what he wanted from me.”

“If it’s to arrest all of us, he could’ve done it long ago,” Ryan points out. “He knows where we live.”

Geoff tilts his head, unconvinced.

“Okay. Well. We play it safe. Our contract lasts two more weeks, Ryan. We tell Sato we don’t want to continue. We move apartments, right across the city. Gav, you don’t go to the uni any more. We leave no trace of us. Ryan changes his mask, everything.”

“I ruined everything,” Gavin begins, but Geoff shakes his head.

“No - we’re getting bigger. Sato was talking about promoting me - people are fucking scared of Ryan nowadays. Soon it won’t be a good idea to spend too long in one spot anyway.”

There’s a tense silence.

“God,” Geoff spits, the fury spilling through now. “I can’t believe this. The little _fucker_.”

“There was something sneaky about him the first time he came here,” Ryan sighs. “He wasn’t sold.”

“What can he _want_?” Geoff asks. “The police shouldn’t be bothered with us - who’s he working for? The Corpirate?”

“He hates the Corpirate,” Gavin says softly. “Or seemed to. Maybe he’s just a good cop. Wants to take down as many criminals as possible. That could be what he wanted from me - names, so he can arrest them all.”

“Nonsense,” is Ryan’s reply to that. “No cop in AC actually cares about that.”

“Jeremy’s different,” Gavin begins, almost defensively before he catches himself. His face falls again. “Or maybe he isn’t.”

A morose silence falls. After a moment, Gavin takes the bottle of vodka from Geoff, pours it into the teapot, shakes said pot vigorously, and then swigs straight from the spout. Ryan and Geoff watch in horrified fascination.

“After all,” Gavin says abruptly, voice strained, “I hardly think it’s proper police procedure to _seduce_ your suspect.”

Shock, then rage, flashes across Geoff’s face. Ryan winces - he hadn’t included that bit of the story, although he’d put it together himself from what Gavin told him in the car.

“Shit,” Geoff hisses. And then, furiously, “I’m gonna kill him, Gavin - _using_ you like that - I know you’re careful,” he adds, when Gavin opens his mouth, presumably to blame himself again. “I _know_ , more than anyone, how hard it is to earn your trust. So I know this guy must’ve been really something to deceive you like that. And hell, we do it too, right? That’s how we play the game - that’s how we want to get to the top. But we don’t use people’s fucking _feelings_ , not like that. I know you’re upset, and angry, and kicking yourself right now. Just know neither of us blame you for this. And when you’re ready to get out there and start kicking ass again, this bastard will be the first one we take down. We’re still gonna do it,” he says, fiercely. “No one can stop us.”

Gavin gives a small, weak smile.

“Right,” he says, but he still sounds disillusioned. After a moment he shifts and starts to get up from the couch. “I think I’ll just go and rest for a bit, now.”

Geoff bites his lip, but doesn’t stop Gavin as he gathers his blankets and trails off into his room, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, the two men staring after him helplessly.

As soon as the door closes, Geoff slumps, and Ryan sees just how much he was holding back so as not to alarm Gavin. His face crumples and he sits heavily on the couch like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

“Fuck me,” he declares. “Fuck all of us. Fuck Jeremy most of all.”

“Yikes,” Ryan murmurs, unsure what to say.

Geoff looks up at him tiredly.

“I can’t believe this,” he says. “Gavin! We never even knew he was talking to this guy! Why wouldn’t he tell us?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan replies uncertainly. “He’s young, they… do things.”

Geoff huffs out a laugh.

“Fucking tell me about it. I raised the kid.”

“Hey.” Ryan rises and crosses over to the couch, sinking down next to Geoff and bumping their shoulders together. He attempts a reassuring smile. “He’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know about that,” Geoff mutters, and rubs his hands tiredly over his face. “Fuck that guy. What did he think he was _doing_? You reckon he might be working with other people?”

“I have no idea,” Ryan replies. “But we need to find out so we know how bad this is and what we should do.”

“Yeah,” Geoff agrees. He rubs his face again. “Shit. He was so _young_ , I never thought when he came in here investigating that he was serious, that he’d do something like that… guess we all fucked up not taking it seriously. Not warning Gavin that they’d been here, that… that that happened.”

Ryan bites his lip. It was true, they hadn’t told Gavin much about the police visit. He wasn’t sure why except that the way they’d gotten out of trouble - the flirting, the domesticity, the fake relationship - it felt too intimate, too personal in a way that he hadn’t wanted to share. Hadn’t wanted to make subject to the teasing that Gavin would inevitably give them. Apparently Geoff had felt the same.

Geoff sighs. He leans forward and picks up the teapot, takes a drink, and then chokes and spits everywhere, spewing a rather questionable looking liquid all over the carpet.

“Fuck,” he sputters. “That is fucking awful, oh my God.”

Ryan can’t help laughing. He grabs a tissue from the table and mops some off the mess off Geoff’s shirt and the corner of his mouth; Geoff sighs and leans against him, resting against his side.

“I didn’t expect this to hit us out of the blue,” he says.

“Me either.”

“We have enough on our plate starting to work our way up. Sato had us in a really good position. I didn’t want to tell Gav, but this actually is a setback.”

“We’ll deal with it,” Ryan reassures him.

“I know,” Geoff says, and looks over at him. He looks tired, but his smile this time is more genuine, and he puts his hand over Ryan’s. “I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for taking care of him.”

Ryan smiles back. His heart’s pounding at the close contact, but under that there’s a comfortable sort of familiarity that’s grown between them over these last few months.

“I think it helps having someone he can talk to who he’s less close to,” he replies. “He admires you a lot, you know. He doesn’t want you to see him as a liability.”

“He’s not,” Geoff says. “But Jeremy… he knows so much about us. Our plans, everything. Ryan,” he begins, and hesitates, something darker passing over his face. Just like that, in a second, the mood shifts, some odd cold dread settling over them.

“What?” Ryan asks, and Geoff looks away. The concern builds, and he squeezes Geoff’s arm, tugging insistently. “ _What_ , Geoff?”

“I don’t want to say it,” Geoff begins, haltingly. But it’s too late, he’s already started - he pulls away from Ryan, leaning his elbows against his knees, looking away. His voice hesitant as he says, “But… no matter who he’s working for, after what he did… this is bad, Ryan. I wasn’t joking. I… I think we actually do have to kill him.”

Ryan freezes. For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s just heard.

“What?” he says, slowly.

“Eliminate the problem,” Geoff continues, voice stiffer now, cold and assured. “He hurt and manipulated Gavin. He’s become a weak spot - our biggest weak spot - _Gavin’s_ weak spot. He could’ve been arrested today, anything could’ve happened. This kid knows where we live, where we work, hell, he probably knows all the places Gavin usually goes to. He’s putting us in danger,” he says, and looks over at Ryan, eyes wide and desperate. “So he has to go.”

Ryan’s staring at him in horror. He can’t fucking believe what he’s hearing. Like literally, what the _fuck_?

“He’s Gavin’s age,” he begins, incredulously.

“We’ve seen younger people who’ve done worse.”

“You want to fucking _assassinate_ him?” His voice rises, shocked and hysterical, and Geoff furiously shushes him, glancing at Gavin’s closed door.

“Not so loud.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Geoff.” Ryan’s heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now. “You’re saying this because you’re angry with him - you don’t mean it.”

“What else is there to do?” Geoff demands, sounding annoyed now. “Threaten him? Bribe him? Talk him out of it? We haven’t had an enemy like this before, one who has so much on us-”

“We know nothing about him,” Ryan hisses, furiously. “I doubt Gavin will tell us anything more than what he already has. We don’t know what he wants, how dangerous he actually is-”

“This is the best, fastest way to get rid of the problem,” Geoff snarls, teeth clenched. “Like ripping off a bandaid. What he _did_ , Ryan - he fucking made Gav fall in love with him and then turned on him. I will not let that happen. I will not let it go unpunished.”

Ryan feels sick. He doesn’t know what to think - his head spinning, this all doesn’t feel _real_. He can’t believe these words are coming from Geoff’s mouth right next to him. Worst of all, he hates that these exact thoughts crossed his own mind before - that now someone else is giving voice to them.

“You are not serious,” he says.

“I’m dead serious,” Geoff snaps.

“What? Geoff, _no_ ,” Ryan says, and rises from the couch, running his hands through his hair. His face is itchy, still covered in his smudged paint from earlier. “You can’t just _murder_ someone! That starts you on a path of solving all your problems like that.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Geoff begins, but the words make something snap in Ryan; he rounds on him, furious.

“ _No you don’t_!” he cries, and his fists clench. “You _don’t_ ,” he insists, “You’ve never even killed someone before. You _haven’t_.”

Geoff stares defiantly at him, and Ryan scoffs, throwing his hands up.

“ _We need to kill him_ ,” he mocks. “By that you mean _I_ need to kill him. Because you sure as hell won’t pull the trigger, and it’s not gonna be Gavin.”

“I’ll fucking do it,” Geoff insists. “You watch me.”

Ryan’s never been so annoyed with the other man before.

“You have _no idea_ what it’s like,” he cries. “You have no idea the - the magnitude of what you’re suggesting!” He manages to flub half the words in that sentence, and it only enrages him more.

“God,” he hisses, and gesticulates angrily, Geoff watching him with his jaw clenched tight. “You spent too much time around Sato. Too much time watching other people kill each other. It is not so _easy_. Or maybe it’s too easy,” he adds, bitterly, “Once you do it too much.”

Geoff continues to stare at him, chin lifted. Still not faltering. Ryan can’t believe this. He steps forward, angrily.

“You think this is the right path?” he demands. “You think this aligns with your dream?”

“The dream means shit,” Geoff says tightly, “If the police get us, or the Corpirate, or whoever Jeremy’s working for.”

“No,” Ryan spits, “The dream means shit if you start making loopholes for when it’s okay to do the very things you despise!”

There’s a tense silence as they glare at each other. Ryan’s shaking, and after a moment he reaches up and rubs his hands over his face and forces himself to take a deep breath.  
  
“You’re upset,” he says. “And you don’t know what you’re saying. Or I hope so, anyway. God’s fucking sake.” He shakes his head, dropping his hands, and meets Geoff’s eyes again. He can’t read the other man’s face; he’s staring back at him coldly, blankly. Ryan doesn’t know what he’s looking at. He shakes his head again.

“You have no idea what it’s like to take a life,” he repeats. “No fucking idea, or you wouldn’t say that like it’s easy.”

He’s already turning to leave before he can even finish his sentence. Has to get out of here, to cool off, to get some distance. He thinks Geoff needs some too. The other man doesn’t call after him as he marches out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. He pauses, breathing heavily - someone is yelling on the floor above them, a distant, muffled angry screaming cut over by the crackling blare of a television turned up too loudly. The lights in the hallway here are a sickly green hue, flickering, and with no sunlight coming into this part of the building it doesn’t feel like the morning. He hates it here, suddenly. He tends to forget what a shithole this place can be when Geoff and Gavin are around.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and kicks the wall hard - the shouting upstairs goes silent for a moment, startled, then resumes - trembling, he shoves his hands in his pockets and storms out of the building.

\---

The first time Ryan kills someone, it’s an accident.

He is not from Achievement City. He’s born and raised in Georgia, outside of that pit of crime and depravity. His family are well off, but his parents have a messy divorce when he’s still very young and since then he remains distant from both of them, focused on his studies.

He’s probably the least likely person to ever kill someone, to be honest. There’s a certain degree of irony to it all. He’s a big guy - tall, has always been well built - but _dweeby_ is probably the word most would use to describe him. Hell, he’d use it to describe himself. He gets into university easily, is studying arts, theatre, English literature.

You hardly think you’re gonna become a criminal with an in-depth knowledge of Shakespeare, but here we are somehow.

It’s like this: there’s a gang in his city involved in selling drugs. Meth, mostly - he knows little about it, just that it’s been in the news a lot over the last few years, a drug epidemic that gets a lot of public service and health warnings but that he otherwise sees as nothing but articles on the side of his facebook feed.

He might not know anything about it - but unfortunately, some friends he gets involved with do. It’s purely a case of wrong place, wrong time - he’s in a class with one of them, and has few enough friends that he starts hanging out with them and the rest of their group.

Maybe he’s stupid, oblivious not to realise what they’re up to. It’s not like they tell him, but there are signs - stacks of cash despite none of them working proper jobs, drugs at parties, the works. But he’s naive, sheltered, doesn’t put it all together until one day one of them winds up dead and everyone is scared.

Ryan still has no idea what’s going on.

He tries to investigate, to find out why a friend of his was shot dead in a back alley one night - the police say it was a drug deal gone wrong, but noble and stubborn he refuses to believe it. The rest of the group, tearful, try to stop him getting involved.

Mistake number one: not backing off while he has the chance.

The police seem to be getting nowhere, so he presses for more details - which is why he ends up standing in another friend’s apartment, arguing and trying to convince her to tell him what the hell is happening, when a man breaks through the window with a gun.

It’s all a bit of a blur after that.

It turns out that the movies are wrong. Hitting someone in the head with a blunt object does not, in fact, just knock them out harmlessly. It fucking caves their skull in, leaves blood and brains all over the floor and-

 _You idiot_ , is what he mostly remembers from that afternoon, his friend screaming, _you idiot, we’re both dead now, oh my God, oh my God, what have you done-_

Honestly, the next part passes in a sort of daze.

He wants to go to the police. She refuses. _He has friends in the police,_ she says.

‘He’ is the leader of the drug ring, the man who sent this guy to come and kill her. A druglord of considerable repute. Ryan’s thrown into the fucking deep end here, had no idea these people existed in his city. There were news stories, but they were detached, things that happened to other people. He never thought he’d be involved with it.

But here he is now, crouched over a dead body. Blood seeping into the carpet, all over his hands, feeling detached and numb and unable to believe that _he_ did it, he made that corpse turn cold, made the life slip out of those staring dull eyes.

He doesn’t pay much attention to what happens after that.

His friend - the surviving one - says something about a woman who can protect them. He’s barely listening, lets her lead him out and drive him to a part of town he’s never been to and take him into a warehouse where a lot of words are said and he barely registers what’s going on.

 _I killed someone_.

It doesn’t feel real.

The woman’s name is Serena. She’s the leader of a rival drug smuggling gang looking to monopolise. Says she’ll protect them - for a price. That price is using them as bait so she can kill the other druglord.

They agree - or Ryan’s friend does. He’s barely aware of what’s happening, doesn’t even feel _scared_. He’s in shock, probably. This all feels like a nightmare.

What he does know is that this doesn’t fix his problems.

The man does come after them. He dies - Serena kills him - but the police are hot on his heels and they go after her gang instead. Ryan is forced to run along with them; they saw him, they know his face. His friend comes too, a bunch of others. But he can’t have their protection for free. Serena tells him if he’s gonna stick around, he has to pull his weight.

And the next thing he knows, he can’t leave.

He doesn’t know how to avoid being arrested, how to protect himself from the enemies he’s suddenly made. Has nowhere to _go_ , no one to turn to.

So he stays with Serena a while. He does things he’s not proud of. Helps her and her crew evade the police, set traps for the cops after them. Watches as people get hurt, get _killed_ and-

One day Serena sends him on a hit.

He tries to refuse. Has mostly worked behind the scenes for now - paperwork, making phone calls, driving people around. And he doesn’t want to go - but the man she’s after is a threat to their safety, a bad guy himself, and she tells him that he just needs to go along as extra muscle, and he doesn’t know why he agrees.

Because he’s scared?

Because he has no other choice?

Either way, it all goes horribly wrong. Their target gets the jump on them and kills the guy that Ryan’s with and Ryan has to snatch up the gun himself and-

The second time Ryan kills someone, it’s in self defence.

The third time Ryan kills someone, it’s because no one else will do it - because the rest of the gang turns on Serena. She’s making bad choices, leading them into too much shit. _She has to go_ , they say, _she’s putting us in danger and she won’t let us leave and we have to do this, we can be free_ \- they’re all plotting it, Ryan trying to stay uninvolved but failing, and then she finds out and Ryan’s the only one around when she does, the only one who has a chance to get rid of her before she hits back at them and he _takes it_ , he fucking takes it-

Except the police have caught up with them by now and all the rest of them run to Achievement City, scattered and unsure what they’re doing and straight into the territory of a crime lord who’s heard about what happened and catches them all.

 _Join us or die_ , that’s what he says. _Who among you has killed?_

He needs hitmen, bodyguards, muscle for his crew.

Ryan joins to survive.

The fourth time he kills someone, it’s because he was ordered to.

The fifth time he kills someone, it’s because his boss is watching and he can’t see any other way.

He’s not a good assassin. He tries to get himself relegated to security guard duty, waits and bides his time for someone to take out the guy he’s working for, to have his chance to escape.

But every time he does think he has an opening, someone else sweeps in. Threatens him, or employs him, or he ends up in someone’s bad books and needs to work with a bigger name for protection. It’s a never ending cycle he can’t get out of.

Kill someone to be free, make a new enemy.

Kill someone to defend yourself, make a new enemy.

Kill your enemy, another takes their place.

And so it goes, until a man named Falvo takes over, and suddenly Ryan’s under him and being used far more for assassin work than he ever has before.

By now, he is too used to killing.

He tries to rationalise it by telling himself that the people he does kill are bad. That they know the risk they’re taking. That if it’s not him who does it, it’ll be someone else eventually, or they’ll get gunned down by the police at some point anyway.

The worst part is, though, he’s getting paid for this.

He’s _employed_ , not just being threatened into staying. And he isn’t sure what else to do, because he can’t _leave_ , but he can’t refuse money either, not if he wants to eat, and before long he has a fucking apartment in the city and not a bad one either.

Before he knows it, he has a _life_ here, and he doesn’t like it but he doesn’t know where else to go. He’s wanted outside Achievement City. But in here, he wears a mask and no one knows who he is.

It’s hard to sleep at night.

It always has been, but it’s even worse now. He can’t get in touch with his family, doesn’t want to put them in danger, doesn’t think they’ll care much anyway.

Every kill gets both easier and harder.

Easier to pull the trigger now because he’s done it so many times.

Harder because it weighs heavier on his shoulders, because he hates that he’s getting _used_ to it, hates _himself_ -

He doesn’t always put much effort in for the smaller targets. Lets them get away, takes so long mucking around that sometimes someone else bumps them off first and he doesn’t have to do it.

But it’s still terrible, it still hurts. He doesn’t know what he’s becoming, he’s scared of _himself_ , and worst of all, he doesn’t know what he’s doing it for except to save his own life, for his own good, because right now he doesn’t know what the hell _else_ he has as an option.

There’s a point where he just accepts it.

This is what he is now, he’s in too deep to go back, and the only thing he can do, the one _tiny_ thing that keeps him going, is the hope that he clings to some good. Some principles. That there’s remorse in there, behind everything, and he can’t lose that.

\---

Gavin doesn’t come out of his room for dinner.

When Ryan finally returns to the apartment after going for a long walk, returning melancholic and downcast, Geoff’s in his own room too, the door firmly shut. Ryan prepares his own food in silence, something simple and small.

When Geoff finally ventures out, there’s an awkward silence when he notices Ryan, before he moves to make his own meal. They don’t look at each other, Ryan sitting with his head down, not in the mood to fight again.

He hopes Geoff will get something and leave. But a few moments later, the other man puts a glass bottle down on the kitchen counter hard enough that the noise makes Ryan look up. Geoff catches his eyes - there’s something guilty and apologetic in his face, and he opens his mouth.

Before he can say anything, there’s a knock at the door.

They both stiffen immediately, exchanging an alarmed glance. Ryan rises from the table and reaches to snatch up his gun; Geoff grabs his own, both of them moving soundlessly towards the door. With a nod of his head, Geoff directs Ryan to open it while he hangs back, aiming.

Ryan’s heart is pounding. After what happened today, this can only be trouble. He peers out the peephole and stiffens as he recognises Jeremy standing outside.

 _Fuck_ , is the first thing he thinks - alarm rocking through him. His first instinct is _danger_ , to run and not look back - but Jeremy looks up at the peephole, seeming to stare at Ryan even if he can’t see him. His eyes are red-rimmed and his face drawn, upset. And Ryan realises, suddenly, that he is alone. No police in sight.

It might be a trap.

Or it might not, and either way he’s not about to let Geoff kill Jeremy. He doesn’t think the other man would, but it’s a risk he’s not willing to take, not tonight. He makes his shoulders relax, glancing over his shoulder at Geoff and forcing a smile.

“It’s the landlord. I’ll deal with it - you go make something for Gavin to eat, see if that coaxes him out.”

Geoff nods. Ryan feels almost guiltily at how easily the other man believes him. He potters back into the kitchen and Ryan glances after him to make sure he’s gone before opening the door and slipping out.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses immediately, shutting the door firmly behind him and rounding on Jeremy, who stares up at him, confused. Ryan’s still holding the gun - he doesn’t lower it, and after a moment Jeremy notices it and startles, lifting his hands.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he begins, but Ryan shushes him furiously, glancing at the closed door.

“You can’t fucking be here,” he hisses - Jeremy still looks confused, but when Ryan jerks his head towards the stairs he blinks and then heads down, Ryan following. His hands still raised, glancing worriedly over his shoulder at the gun. He’s not in uniform, Ryan notes absently. Isn’t carrying his own weapon.

Still. He’s hardly about to _trust_ him.

They get down to the foyer and Jeremy turns to him again, eyes wide. Ryan gestures angrily at the door.

“You can’t be here,” he repeats furiously. “Leave right now and don’t fucking come back. If we hear from you again we will kill you.”

 _We_. He needs it to be a threat, because Jeremy might look pretty unintimidating standing here staring up at Ryan like a kicked puppy, but he’s the most direct threat to their safety right now. And _he hurt Gavin_ \- Ryan had forgotten what he looked like, after that one chance encounter months ago, but looking at him now, knowing what he’s done, there seems something sinister to him, even as he shakes his head desperately.

“I need to see Gavin,” he insists, and Ryan scowls, stepping closer to him.

“I know all about what you did to him,” he snarls, and Jeremy flinches.

“It’s not like that,” he begins. “I need to… he doesn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Ryan demands. “That you lied to him, _betrayed_ him? If you value your life tell me right fucking now what you’re planning to do with all the information you weaselled out of him-”

“I never wanted him to get hurt,” Jeremy cries - and Ryan freezes - he sounds genuine, voice cracking a little - “The arrest today was nothing to do with me, I swear. All I wanted… all I wanted was to bring down the Corpirate, to try and _fix_ this city.”

Ryan stares at him for a moment. Jeremy stares earnestly back, and there’s a different sort of resolve in his eyes now. He’s either a damn good liar, or a complete fool who’s convinced _himself_ of what he’s doing.

After a moment Ryan laughs, disbelieving and mocking, and Jeremy glares.

“It’s true,” he snaps, and Ryan falters at his genuine resolve.

“Fix this place? You can’t,” he sneers, “Nothing can. It’s too far gone.”

His voice falters a little at the end, a too-broken whisper at the truth of it, of how it’s been eating at him all day after his fight with Geoff. Jeremy notices, and something in his face softens, something almost understanding that makes Ryan feel like he’s seen too much.

“I was going to try,” he insists. “No one else at the precinct would help. I wasn’t even allowed to be investigating. But then I met Gavin and I… I thought he could give me info. On Decker, at first - then the Corpirate. Nothing against your family personally. Just a way in.”

Ryan stares at him, keeping his face blank, and after a moment Jeremy looks down and sighs, shoulders hunched up.

“But I… things changed. They changed a _lot_.” He scoffs out an awkward sort of laugh. “I forgot what I was even doing, and the lies built up and I didn’t _want_ them to, I didn’t want to hurt him, I just… didn’t know what to do.”

He looks pleadingly up at Ryan again, and the other man freezes, lowering the gun a little as he sees the unspoken words written plainly across Jeremy’s face, what he can’t bring himself to say.

“Are you trying to tell me,” he says flatly, “That you _fell_ for him?”

Jeremy’s eyes widen. Ryan sees the flash of almost panic in his eyes before he bites his lip.

“I care about Gavin,” he replies. “That’s… that’s what scared me. That’s why I didn’t stop this long ago when I had enough information to continue on my own. I couldn’t just ignore him, cut him out of my life suddenly… but I couldn’t tell him the truth. I knew what he’d think - knew it’d break his trust. I’m a piece of shit, okay? I know that already, but _please_ , let Gavin know that he’s not in any danger from me. That I’d never hurt him, not deliberately. And that none of this was his fault - that parts of it _were_ real, the parts that mattered.”

It’s Ryan who looks away now. The genuine earnestness in Jeremy’s voice is nearly touching.

“How can I trust you,” he says quietly.

“You can’t,” Jeremy sighs. “Just believe me when I say I only ever wanted to do what was right here.”

Ryan looks at him for a long moment. He feels oddly uncomfortable - because he can see himself in Jeremy, in some ways, himself right at the beginning of all this when he still thought he could get out of it without spilling any more blood, when he just wanted himself and his friends to be safe, didn’t want to _hurt_ anyone. This city took him like it takes everyone else. In his efforts to do right Jeremy got tangled up in it too - he’s still angry with the other man, for hurting Gavin, but he doesn’t feel like the other man means them harm. Hopes his gut feeling is right - can only trust it.

“You need to go,” he repeats curtly - even if he’s softened, he doesn’t want Jeremy to know that. “Don’t try to contact Gavin. Don’t come near him again. If you put any one of us in danger, you will regret it. I’ll see what I tell him.”

Jeremy stares up at him, upset, and Ryan scoffs.

“You want to make things right here? You might as well have arrested us as soon as you realised what we did. We’re not good people.”

“My convictions are… fluid,” Jeremy replies, sounding very strained, and Ryan scoffs - Jeremy’s eyes harden, just a little.

“I trust Gavin,” he continues. “But I don’t trust you. Nevertheless, I have no intention of hurting any of you. Trust me,” he adds, with a humourless twist to his lips, “The police couldn’t care less about what you lot are doing, anyway.”

He turns away, running his hands over his face, and Ryan presses his lips together. When Jeremy looks up again, he seems suddenly very young, and Ryan remembers with a pang that he’s barely Gavin’s age, that if he is telling the truth this city must be wearing him down the same way it has Ryan. All he can do now, though, is stand and watch silently, until Jeremy drops his hands from his face and sighs tiredly.

“I’ll go then,” he says quietly. “Just… tell Gavin I didn’t mean any of it? That it wasn’t all fake?”

Ryan doesn’t reply, and Jeremy’s face crumples for a moment before he turns away and trudges out of the building. Ryan watches him leave, and when he vanishes out of sight Ryan’s shoulders slump.

 _Fuck_ , is all he can think. This is even more complicated than he thought. It would be so much easier if Jeremy _was_ just a villain, just someone they could set themselves against. But Ryan believes that he’s not, and that only makes things even more confusing. He doesn’t know what to do, what’s _right_ here, if there is a right in their world.

 _What a fucking mess_.

\---

When he gets back inside, the lights are dim and Geoff’s sitting on the couch, staring into space. He jumps when Ryan enters, hand going for the gun on the coffee table before he realises who it is. He relaxes, then looks awkward again, glancing at a point just left of Ryan’s face, not meeting his eyes.

“All sorted?” he asks quietly, and Ryan gives a tired nod.

Geoff stands up and straightens the couch cushions, while Ryan lingers awkwardly. He hates this. He wishes he could tell Geoff that it was Jeremy outside - everything the young man told him - that he doesn’t know what to _do_ , what to think, what to believe. That they could mull over it together, work something out. Geoff’s usually good at that - at coming up with solutions that get them the best deal without being cruel - without hurting anyone else more than they deserve. It’s why Ryan’s convinced, now, too, that the dream can eventually work.

He isn’t sure where this sudden bloodthirsty attitude came from. Maybe when it comes to Gavin it’s different. He thinks he can understand that, even if he doesn’t approve.

“He still hasn’t come out,” Geoff says abruptly - Ryan turns to find him looking at Gavin’s still-closed door. “Even for food.”

“Give him time,” Ryan replies, softly, and Geoff nods. He runs his hands over his face again and sighs.

“Better call it a night, then. Lots to do tomorrow.”

He steps past Ryan towards his bedroom. Ryan shifts to get out of the way, hating how uneasy things are between them. He’s used to everything being comfortable with Geoff, to them relying on each other.

Even now, he hates the feeling of being annoyed with the other man. Wants nothing more than for them to make up.

But Geoff steps silently past him and the tension in the room remains thick and heavy, and Ryan is left in the gloomy living room between two closed doors, alone.

\---

“Where are you going so early?”

Ryan jumps when he hears Gavin’s voice, turning from where he was pouring coffee. It’s barely past five and still dark as night outside.

It’s been two days, now. He’s barely seen Gavin the whole time, only catching him occasionally slipping like a shadow to the bathroom or kitchen.

Two days of a horrible uneasiness. Geoff was trying to find out if the rest of the police were in on everything, while Ryan was tracking down a new place for them to live.

But here’s Gavin now, standing uncertainly in the doorframe. He doesn’t look as bad as Ryan expected. Tired, mostly. Dark shadows ringing his eyes. Hair dishevelled, but that’s normal for him.

“I have a job,” Ryan replies. “Going to, uh, beat up some people.”

Gavin raises his eyebrows.

“Thought you didn’t like that sort of thing,” he points out.

Ryan lifts the kettle, offering him coffee. Gavin hesitates, but after a moment sidles into the room and sits at the kitchen table. Ryan pours their drinks and sits next to him. He hasn’t painted his face yet, isn’t in a hurry to go.

“These people deserve it,” he explains. “They’re a new crew in town who were making moves on the edge of Sato’s territory. They robbed and beat up one of his messengers pretty badly. She’s a nice girl,” he adds. “Or as nice as you can get here. Doesn’t do any of the rough stuff, just couriers for him. Needs the money, her wife’s pretty sick at the moment. So I’m not happy she got hurt. I’m not gonna kill them - just teach them a lesson. Sato’s paying me well for it, too,  and we’ll need that extra money if we’re moving soon.”

Gavin contemplates this silently for a moment. With his sleeves pulled down over his hands, fingers wrapped around his mug of coffee, he looks far too young. Ryan waits, oddly uncertain of himself suddenly.

“You’re changing,” Gavin announces finally, and Ryan glances up at him, questioningly.

“Once you wouldn’t have wanted to hurt those people at all,” Gavin muses. “Now you’re willing to, as long as it’s for justice. Our brand of justice, at least.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ryan asks, quietly.

Gavin shakes his head.

“Maybe some people would say it is,” he replies. “But… I like it. I think it’s good. The peaceful way isn’t always the way that everyone gets what they deserve. Especially here in AC, where the police…”

He trails off, faltering, looking upset again for a moment before he buries his face in his drink again. Ryan looks away, giving him space.

Then Gavin looks up again, abruptly.

“I want to come with you,” he says.

“ _What_?”

“I want to come along with you on this job,” Gavin repeats, “And help. Or watch. Whichever.”

Ryan can only stare at him. Gavin’s staring back, perfectly serious, chin lifted a touch defiantly.

“Gav…” He can’t find the words. Gavin’s not innocent, doesn’t need protecting, but for some reason this feels like a step too far. Maybe because Geoff’s reiterated how he tries to keep him out of gangs and crews for now - out of most solid danger. But it’s more than that. He can’t explain it. “This isn’t what you do.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Gavin shoots back. There’s something pale and fierce in his face.

“I know,” Ryan replies, “But… are you sure you want to do this? It won’t be pretty.”

“You’re not gonna shock me, Ryan,” Gavin says drily. “I’ve seen shit.”

Ryan bites his lip. How can he refuse Gavin without making him more upset? Not to mention, Geoff will be furious if he finds out. But if Gavin think he needs to do this…

He sighs again, rubbing his hands over his face, then drains the rest of his coffee.

“Okay,” he says, and it’s worth it with just that one word to see the way Gavin’s face brightens. “Go get dressed. And you’re taking a gun, just in case. For God’s sake stick close to me, though, and don’t do anything stupid. Geoff will kill me if I let you get hurt.”

“Geoff would never kill you,” Gavin says, and Ryan can only raise his eyebrows, thinking of the other night, and Geoff jumping straight to murdering Jeremy.

“You’d be surprised,” he mutters, but Gavin shakes his head.

“No,” he says, with such confidence that it makes Ryan go still. “He wouldn’t. Thanks, Ryan,” he adds, and Ryan’s lips twitch.

“Hurry up, then. We have to leave before he wakes up!”

Gavin laughs. That’s a good sign, after the last two days. He heads for his own room with something much more energetic in his step.

\---

Ryan’s taken jobs like this more times than he’d like to admit. And it’s true, people are starting to hear stories about the man in the black skull mask, the man with the painted face. When he puts effort in, he’s not incompetent, and it helps that he’s tall. He’s starting to develop a _reputation_ \- he’s not sure what he thinks about that, only that it sure makes his job easier when people are scared of him.

Still - he’s self conscious with an audience, especially because it’s _Gavin_ \- but he pushes that aside.

The gang's new, scattered and disorganised, and when he breaks into one of their hideouts he subdues them easily. He’s getting better at that. With Gavin backing him up, he disarms them - breaks one’s nose and another’s wrist taking them down - and then beats two of them up, methodically, while Gavin keeps the others down with his gun. He might be small but there’s something hard about the expression on his face that makes him seem like a threat.

Ryan’s too-aware of Gavin watching him the whole time. It’s a vague nag at the back of his head, a lurking worry that he’s… setting a bad example, or something, he doesn’t know. But he doesn’t take it too far with his beating - never does - not like some people might have.

When one of the crew lurches to their feet and tries to tackle him when he’s got his back turned, Gavin intercepts. He smacks the man across the face with the butt of the gun in one fluid motion - so fast that even Ryan barely notices he’s moving until the man’s already on the ground. There’s something funnily fierce about Gavin, his silence, the way he kicks the man back to kneel in line with the others. Like a feral cat, quick and vicious.

They get the job done efficiently and head back out in silence. It isn’t until they’re back at the car that Gavin suddenly pauses, and Ryan turns to look at him.

“You seem upset,” Gavin says suddenly, and Ryan blinks at him.

“I’m… not?” he replies, and he _isn’t_ , really, but maybe his shoulders are a little slumped and he’s still having that good old existential crisis about what he’s doing here, what he wants - it’s gotten better, since meeting Geoff, but he still isn’t _sure_ of himself and what he is, and every job he takes makes it both better and worse. He had his chance to leave. He chose to stay. And maybe all his excuses that he was too far gone to go were just that. _Excuses_. He doesn’t know any more.

“I’m not shocked by what happened back there,” Gavin says after a minute. “I grew up in this. Geoff did too. We’ve seen worse. Everyone has. And those people back there, they’ve _done_ worse.”

“I know,” Ryan replies, and sighs. “Maybe I didn’t grow up here, but… I’m getting there.”

Gavin looks sad for a moment. Then he abruptly moves forward and hugs Ryan tightly. Ryan freezes for a moment, shocked, then hugs him back. He’s a little startled; Gavin’s tactile with him, has been for months now. But not like this, not in this suddenly sentimental way.

Still. It feels good, after all that. It’s grounding. After a moment Gavin presses his face into Ryan’s shoulder and then looks up at him, something uncertain in his face.

“I didn’t tell you about Jeremy,” he chokes out, “Because of you and Geoff. I’m not… not jealous, or anything, I just… wanted something for myself. It seems stupid looking back on it.”

Ryan’s heart sinks a little. He hugs Gavin more tightly, hands running down his back.

“It’s not stupid,” he murmurs. “I get it. I get why you were worried. But Gavin… I don’t just like you because I’m close to Geoff, you know. I care about you too. _Both_ of you have… have really made me feel better about a lot of things. Gave me somewhere to belong. I’m grateful for that.”

Gavin nods and Ryan smiles at him. In his chest, a flutter of nervous excitement has started up again. He knows that Gavin is observant, that of course he hasn’t missed this thing building between Ryan and Geoff. But hearing someone acknowledge it out loud for the first time is thrilling. At least until he remembers, again, the fight they’ve had.

Gavin starts talking again, and he doesn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Jeremy… I don’t know why I liked that about him,” he begins, voice muffled into Ryan’s jacket so that he has to strain to hear. “That he was… innocent, sort of. That he didn’t know stuff about this city. And finding out all that was a lie… I don’t know. He reminded me of you when we first met you, how you didn’t want to do this.”

“I didn’t want to,” Ryan says, “But I had. Many times before.”

“You didn’t like it,” Gavin points out. “But you’re free now. You only do what you choose to. And you’re adapting like the rest of us, to figure out how to get by here. That makes you strong. Maybe not _good_. But strong.” He looks up at Ryan, thoughtfully.

“We’re stuck in this,” he continues, “And I don’t know what Jeremy _wants_ \- to hurt us? Or if not, to… what? Rehabilitate us?” He scoffs. “Very noble. I don’t want that. Good people just get screwed over by the world eventually. I thought he understood how I felt about that, that he _accepted_ that. But finding out he’s a cop… I guess he never accepted it after all. Still - all I want is to take care of you, and Geoff. And Jeremy, before all… this. Is that so bad? Just protect our own family, you know? Our own crew.”

“It will happen one day,” Ryan says fiercely. “I believe in it.”

Gavin smiles.

“It means a lot to hear you say that,” he replies, and steps away from Ryan, heaving a deep breath.

“I will be okay, you know,” he says. “I’m hurt and annoyed but it’s not the first time that someone I thought cared about me turned out to… not.”

Ryan aches.

 _He does care,_ is all he can think. Because part of him believes what Jeremy told him outside, part of him thinks the other man was earnest. _He does._ Maybe it would mean something for Gavin to hear that.

But it’s too messy, makes things even more complicated than just letting Jeremy fade from his mind would. Gavin can get over it, and maybe the next time they find someone he gets close to Ryan and Geoff can screen them and make sure they’re who they say they are, and things will get better.

So he says nothing, just nods and smiles and opens the car door, and takes Gavin back home.

\---

Gavin is in much better spirits when they return that evening. Geoff’s out longer, doing his own job, and when he returns home he freezes, then smiles slowly, at the sight of Ryan and Gavin making dinner together.

They sit, and eat, and talk about other things, no one bringing up Jeremy. Ryan and Geoff even banter with each other, although there’s a lingering tension. They still don’t talk about their argument, not around Gavin, at least.

In fact, he somehow avoids Geoff the whole night - one or the other of them is showering, or taking the bin out, and even after Gavin goes back to his room, by the time Ryan’s finished everything he needs to do that evening Geoff has already headed into his own bedroom, and the door’s shut.

He’s faintly disappointed, but overall today was a good day. They’re going to get better, he knows. This whole thing will blow over in time.

It was such a good day, in fact, that the nightmares he has when he does get to sleep take him completely by surprise.

He’s not sure what triggered them - if anything. These things can come on their own, unknown doubts and worries creeping up on you. Past traumas resurfacing when you least expect it. It’s a mix of memories and fears. The people he beat up today - going too far by accident. Hitting them too hard, just like that first man he killed. Blood on the floor, brains - staring down at them, Gavin behind him watching. He hasn’t seen what happened yet. Ryan doesn’t know what to tell him, knows in the odd logic of the dream that the second Gavin finds out what’s happened, he’ll run away from Ryan, out into the city and danger and lurking police officers waiting to arrest him, and Geoff will be devastated.

It shifts into other concerns - running through the city at night, trying to find Geoff before he can track down and kill Jeremy. His phone constantly ringing in his pocket, knowing it’s Gavin calling for help somewhere but not being able to stop and go to him because he needs to find Geoff before he can do something he regrets. The streets are slippery with blood and he keeps passing bodies and having to stop, check them, make sure it’s not anyone he knows. Sometimes they are - Serena, or Sato, or his friends from far back in uni, from what seems like another lifetime now.

It’s not any one moment that jerks him awake. The next thing he knows he’s suddenly sitting up on the couch, breathing heavily and covered in a cold sweat. Someone didn’t turn off the television properly and there’s a logo on the screen casting blue light into the dark room.

 _Safe,_ he thinks, but he doesn’t _feel_ safe, and he wraps the blanket around himself properly and lets out a muffled groan, shaky and unsettled from the dreams.

“Ryan?”

The voice makes him jump, his heart skipping another beat as he whirls around to see Geoff standing in the doorway to his room.

“What time is it?” Ryan croaks out. He’s not sure why that’s the first thing he asks, that he suddenly needs to know.

In the dim light he sees Geoff blink at him, then grab his phone and look at it.

“…just past three. You okay?” he asks, slow and concerned, and Ryan looks away. Here in the middle of the night it feels like their argument never happened, like they’re in another world. But Geoff is hesitant and awkward as he steps over to him, in a way he never has been before. Ryan laughs, a bit hysterically.

“Bad dreams,” he admits. “Stupid, right?”

“Not at all.” Geoff hesitates again, then seems to think _fuck it_ and sits down next to Ryan, leaning over and squeezing his shoulder gently. “Want to talk about it?”

Ryan closes his eyes for a moment, unable to help himself leaning into Geoff’s touch, reassured by the warm weight of his hand.

“Not really,” he murmurs. “It was just… stupid things. You were in them,” he adds with a scoff. “Trying to kill Jeremy.”

Geoff winces. Ryan opens his eyes and finds the other man looking at him with his head tilted, a small frown tugging at his lips.

“And that was a nightmare to you,” he says slowly.

Ryan can only shrug.

“Sometimes dreams are weird,” is all he can think to say. “Things feel scary when they shouldn’t. Like I said. It was just stupid.”

Geoff doesn’t look convinced. He looks away for a long moment, then takes a deep breath and turns to Ryan again.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says firmly.

“It’s fine,” Ryan begins, but Geoff shakes his head.

“No, really, I am. I didn’t realise it would upset you so much. You’re right, I was angry, and I wasn’t thinking and it was a knee jerk reaction to seeing Gavin get hurt. I can’t deny, part of me still thinks it’s the easiest way to deal with this. But from what I’ve seen, the cops aren’t making any move against us, I don’t know if he’s even part of a bigger thing. And it wouldn’t be good for Gavin if we… if we did it - and besides, you’re right. I don’t know what it’s like.”

The more he speaks, the heavier the weight in Ryan’s chest grows. Maybe it’s because it’s such a late hour of the night, because he’s feeling vulnerable from the nightmare, maybe he’s just worn down from everything that’s happened the last few days. But with everything Geoff says it only has him questioning himself more; what he does, what he is, the terrible painful knowledge he carries of what it’s like to kill.

“It’s okay,” he tries to say, but hears his voice break. “I mean it, it is, I just…”

He trails off, voice failing him. He barely realises he’s shaking until suddenly he’s crumpling into Geoff’s arms; the other man catches him with a soft noise of surprise and the next thing Ryan knows he’s clinging to him, just needing to be comforted, to be held - Geoff doesn’t comment, just pulls him closer, bundling the blankets around both of them and dragging Ryan forward until his head’s resting on his shoulder, Geoff’s arms wrapped tightly around him and one hand stroking down his arm soothingly.

“Sorry,” Ryan chokes out, and can’t help his embarrassed laugh. “I’m feeling weird today.”

“It’s fine,” Geoff assures him, hugging him closer.

“It sticks with you,” Ryan continues, hysterically - needs to try to explain, at least - “Taking someone’s life. The worst part is that I can’t even remember most of them individually by now. Just things like the first one, or the ones with a lot of blood, or..." He trails off, feeling embarrassingly like he’s going to cry. This has been pent up for too long, things he never dealt with way back at the beginning when all this started. Things he thought he was over - he’s not sure what brought it all up now. “I want to keep you guys from feeling that as long as possible.”

“Ryan…” Geoff’s voice is quiet, almost sad, and Ryan pulls back a little, staring at him seriously.

“Do you know what you’re getting into?” he asks, a mixture of demand and plead. “The dream… I believe in it. I _want_ it. But to get on top, we _will have to kill_. You can’t talk your way out of everything. People will come after us - you, Gavin, you’ll have to kill eventually - do you realise that?”

“Yes,” Geoff says, with such quiet certainty that Ryan knows he’s thought about it before.

“And you still want to do it?”

Geoff hesitates, then nods.

“Like you said,” he replies. “To keep ourselves safe. To keep Gavin safe. That’s my priority. That’s something I’d kill for. As long as you have that limit, what reasons are acceptable… I know it’s very easy for me to say it. That I can never know what it’s like until I do it, too. And maybe you’re right, maybe I’m too used to it. Maybe I’ve gotten desensitised, or some shit. But I believe that if, _when,_ I ever kill someone, it will be for those reasons.”

Ryan listens. Maybe once he would’ve been angry at how easily Geoff says it. But now he’s only envious of the other man’s certainty.

“But Ryan,” Geoff begins hesitantly. “If you don’t want to do this any more…”

Ryan actually thinks about it, for a long moment. Thinks about the possibility that he made the wrong choice in deciding to stay. Just for a second, he thinks about the alternative, about somehow managing to go back to making a normal life for himself.

But then he looks up at Geoff, staring at him so earnestly with his big worried eyes. Thinks of Gavin, sleeping soundly in the other room. Looks around at the flat - Edgar on the windowsill, their three coats hanging up next to the door - the life all _three_ of them have built here. That settles him, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to leave,” he replies. “I’m in too deep, I’ll keep doing it, I _have_ to - I’ll do it, for now, so that you and Gavin don’t have to. But I don’t want to leave, Geoff. Not just that, I _want_ to stay - with you, with Gavin - that’s what’s important to me now.”

It comes out too quiet, too earnestly. He sees Geoff’s eyes widen a little, and on impulse reaches up and folds one of his hands over Geoff’s.

“I’m sorry too, for getting so angry. I haven’t liked fighting these last few days.”

Geoff’s lips twitch.

“Me either.”

“Thanks for checking up on me.” He takes a deep breath. “I will be okay.”

“Good,” Geoff says, and they sit in silence - in the dark, so late at night, the sound of a car going by outside seems deafening, the tick of the clock on the wall suffocatingly loud. But all Ryan can focus on is Geoff, next to him - the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body. How much he’s _missed_ him over the last few days. He stares at him, and Geoff stares back, and after a moment Ryan sees the other man’s eyes flicker down to his lips - and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

He starts to lean in, and the second he does Geoff moves forward and meets him halfway.

It’s been so long coming, Ryan would be lying if he said he hadn’t played this out in his mind a dozen times before.

Still, nothing compares to the real thing. Geoff, intimately familiar by now - the soft scratch of his facial hair, the faint taste of whiskey that always hangs around him - the comfortable confidence of his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, squeezing gently now - the careful push and pull as he leads them without taking control. Ryan gives into it, feels himself relax and lets himself slip away, forgetting everything else.

It’s not passionate and rushed. Maybe after building up for so long, it should be. But it’s _them_ , comfortable and familiar and seeming to fit together like they were made for each other. He doesn’t know why they didn’t do this sooner. They should have.

It seems timeless, like a daze. Almost dreamlike when they finally pull apart, here in the middle of the night, after everything. For a moment Ryan almost doesn’t know where he is, what’s going on.

But then Geoff grins, his easy familiar grin, and Ryan can only smile back, and lean in and rest his head on the other man’s shoulder again. There’s a comfortable silence. His heart’s pounding again, but in a good way this time, a nice way. Geoff’s fingers trace aimless patterns over his arm.

“So I doubt anyone didn’t see that coming,” Geoff says finally, and Ryan laughs - he needs that, after everything.

“We’ll be okay,” he says.

Geoff puts an arm around his shoulders and jostles him before tugging him closer.

“We will,” he agrees.

They don’t need to ask where this leaves them. They know. They’ll work it out. It will all come together the way it always has, so far. Somehow, even after everywhere life’s taken him, Ryan trusts _that_.

\---

“Whoever loses this round has to wash the dishes,” Gavin announces. He attempts to shuffle the deck by flicking the two halves together, fails epically, and sends cards flying all over the place.

“You are a walking catastrophe,” Geoff grunts, as he bends to pick them up. Ryan moves to help and the two of them catch each other’s eyes, exchanging a small smile as they go.

“It’s no wonder you wear a mask all the time, Ryan,” Gavin informs him, dealing the cards quickly. “You have no poker face.”

“We’re not playing poker,” Ryan points out.

“No Cheat-face, then,” Gavin says. “I’ll start.”

Ryan just laughs. It’s nice to see the younger man in good spirits. Things have been good lately, even if he’s struggling to find them a new place to live. But Gavin’s seemed happier, and no one’s come after them, and Geoff…

Things are great between him and Geoff. They’re taking things slowly, but steadily, and Ryan’s happier than he’s ever been. They were already so close that actually _being_ together is just one more step - an added trust, an added closeness.

As it turns out, both he and Gavin are terrible at Cheat. Gavin can’t resist cheating _too much_ , and has no sense of subtlety, and challenged mathematical skills to boot. But he’s right that Ryan’s poker face is… not fantastic. Geoff is far and away the best, given that he smoothtalks for a living.

In the end, Ryan loses, much to Gavin’s glee, and with some grumbling he gets up and goes to wash the dishes - which he usually does anyway. He hears Geoff and Gavin talking behind him - checking in with each other what they’ll be doing the next day.

Gavin’s stopped going to the university. He spends most days with O’Shannassy’s crew now, and after what happened Geoff prefers him there, anyway. That was the one piece of information he _didn’t_ give Jeremy. Ryan’s checked the woman out, and she seems fine. Better than most other crews around here, and not the sort to send Gavin into anything he’s not capable of getting out of.

He’s nearly finished when two arms snake around his waist and a pair of lips press against his neck.

“Hey there,” Geoff murmurs, and Ryan stops what he’s doing with a smile. “You really are bad at cards, you know.”

Ryan rolls his eyes.

“And here I was thinking you were about to say something romantic.”

“Next time, we should play strip poker,” Geoff says, and Ryan can hear the grin in his voice as he leans up and kisses his jaw this time. “Romantic enough for you?”

“Not if Gavin plays too,” Ryan laughs. “I’m nearly done, let me finish this before I drop a plate or something.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Geoff informs him, and Ryan can’t help his flustered smile as the other man’s hand slips up under his shirt, rubbing over his hip for a moment before he pulls away and leaves with a chuckle. Ryan grins, hurrying to finish, and he dries his hands with a tea towel and turns to go when he sees Gavin hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Gross,” Gavin informs him cheekily, glancing over at Geoff’s room. Ryan feels his face flush, but laughs it off.

“Guess you know now,” he says - they haven’t… announced this, or anything, not really, even if it’s been weeks now. He doesn’t know if Geoff’s talked to Gavin about it - doesn’t think he has, or he’d’ve told Ryan.

Gavin just rolls his eyes.

“Dude. I’ve known since the morning after you guys kissed. It was pretty bloody obvious. I’m all good with it,” he adds. “I’m glad. It was about damn time.”

Ryan grins, relieved.

“Thanks,” he says, and Gavin rolls his eyes again.

“Just… don’t bang on the couch, okay? I know it’s technically your bed now, but I sit there too. When we move houses, make sure you guys have a big room right on the other side to me.”

“You overestimate our apartment-buying budget,” Ryan mutters, and Gavin laughs.

“Anyway. I just wanted to remind you to water Edgar before you go to sleep. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Gav,” Ryan says fondly, and Gavin smiles again before leaving the room. Ryan potters about a bit more, cleaning up. The domesticity is a nice part of his routine by now, and he doesn’t even mind the amount that he picks up after the others.

He grabs a glass of water and goes over to Edgar, only to pause, peering out the window. He isn’t sure why, but he has an uneasy feeling - sure enough, after a moment he notices a figure standing across the street, watching them.

A cold feeling takes over him. He freezes, squinting, and with a sudden shock realises it’s Jeremy. There’s no mistaking his height and build.

For a moment, fear. But Jeremy’s alone, and not in uniform - it’s quickly flooded over with a burning anger.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” he hisses, and grabs his gun and knife before leaving the apartment in a rush.

Jeremy’s standing on the street corner still. He’s got fucking binoculars in his hands now, and Ryan sees red - what, is he fucking _spying_ on them? How fucking creepy is that, what the fuck - when he notices Ryan charging towards them he shoves them into his pocket and raises his hands.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” Ryan hisses.

“Ryan,” Jeremy begins helplessly. “Please, I just - I needed to know he was okay - did you tell him I didn’t mean it-”

“I didn’t tell you a fucking thing. What the _fuck_ , Jeremy, you’re perving through our windows-”

“I’m not _perving_ ,” Jeremy cries, indignantly. Even in the darkness Ryan sees his cheeks turn a flaming red. “It’s not like I was peering into your bedroom windows or anything.”  
  
“No, just the place where we _live_. Hope you got a good look at Geoff wandering around in his undies. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Look,” Jeremy begins, defensively. “I didn’t see any of you naked.”

“Am I meant to _thank_ you for that? What, were you planning to climb through the window and sneak into his room to talk to him?” Studiously ignoring the fact that that’s how _he_ met Geoff and Gavin. Look, that was _different_.

Jeremy looks away guiltily, and Ryan scowls.

“Stay _away_ from him,” he hisses. “I warned you last time.”

“I haven’t told anyone else the things he told me,” Jeremy insists. “I haven’t used it against you! All I’ve done is start looking into the Corpirate - I’m trying to find the other people who were there when Decker was killed, some of them _must_ have gotten out - don’t you want that? Don’t you want him taken down? Gavin hates him. He’s not your ally.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of all that. You end up on his hit list and you’re dead.”

“He tried to kill you,” Jeremy points out. “And you’re still here.”

Ryan stares at him. He can’t think of what to say.

“Look,” he settles on finally. “You hurt Gavin by lying so much, no matter your intentions. LIke hell I’m gonna let you hurt him even more by trying to explain yourself.”

“It’s better if he knows the truth,” Jeremy argues, and when Ryan shoots him an unimpressed look, his face crumples, anger turning into genuine hurt, genuine upset. “Ryan,” he pleads, “I… I really, really like him and I know I fucked up, and I’m so sorry, but all I want is-”

“Just get out,” Ryan snaps. Part of him feels sorry but he doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to be swayed. “Just stay away from us. He hasn’t mentioned wanting to talk to you. Has he texted you?” he demands, “Has he called you?”

Jeremy stares helplessly at him, and Ryan can see in his eyes that Gavin hasn’t. That he’s been waiting for him, _hoping_ for him to. But he hasn’t, and that’s all Ryan needs to know. He thinks of Gavin smiling at him back in the kitchen just minutes ago, and his fervour to keep him safe only intensifies.

“Then he doesn’t want to speak to you,” he says sternly.

“Won’t you at least tell him that I was here,” Jeremy begins, “That I want to-”

“No!” Ryan snarls, anger bubbling over. He takes a threatening step closer to him. “I will _not_ -”

He breaks off with a cry as suddenly Jeremy lunges towards him and tackles him around the waist.

Several things happen at once.

Jeremy sends him stumbling a few steps and falling into the wall of the building they’re next to. For a moment. Ryan thinks the other man is attacking him - his back slams into the wall, knocking the wind out of him-

And at the same time, a car speeds over the curb and right through where they were before, swerving to avoid slamming into the wall. It cuts so close to them that Ryan feels the wind of it rushing past, hears the deafening screech of its brakes. He gasps, shocked - Jeremy presses closer against him, instinctively.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Ryan chokes out - two men are already rushing out of the car, and he can see the metallic glint of knives in their hands. He recognises them immediately - they were part of the crew he beat up with Gavin a few weeks ago.

“Son of a bitch,” he hisses - he isn’t in his mask, or jacket, or body armour, is dismally unprepared for this - they must have tracked him home. That angers him more than anything, and he pulls out his own knife and shoulders Jeremy off him.

One man charges at him and Ryan deftly avoids the first swing of his knife. He grabs the man and flips him over onto the hard road, immediately kicking him hard in the ribs twice before crouching down and grabbing him by the hair, lifting his head and then bringing it down against the pavement hard enough to disorient him.

The other man’s gone for Jeremy, for some reason - must’ve assumed they were together. The two of them are locked in a wrestling match, gripping each other’s arms and struggling to bring each other down. As Ryan watches, Jeremy twists out from the man’s grip and the guy stumbles, off balance, towards Ryan, who swiftly grabs him and knifes him in both arms. He howls, the sound echoing through the empty street, and Ryan kicks him hard in the balls. He goes down and Ryan gets on top of him, digging a knee into his throat and pressed hard until the man falls unconscious.

He straightens up in time to point his gun at the other man, who’s starting to sit up but is dazed and obviously out of it.

“Fuck,” Jeremy gasps, Ryan’s eyes flicker over to him - he’s standing, breathing heavily, eyes huge. “Who are they?”

“Enemies of a crew I’m working for,” Ryan replies, darkly. “Damn it! I can’t believe this. I’ll report it to my boss, he’ll probably want to take them out…” He glances towards the apartment building and bites his lip. “Shit. Well, we’re gonna move soon anyway. I’d better make sure Gavin doesn’t come and go on his own for a bit.”

“What’s the crew?” Jeremy asks - Ryan’s eyes flick over to him suspiciously, but he’s straightened up now, something determined in his eyes. “I can help!”

“We don’t need your help,” Ryan replies. It comes out impressively tersely for how rattled he is.

Jeremy bites his lip. He looks down at the bodies on the ground - the one who was sitting up is slumped over again, now. They’re both still alive, chests rising and falling as they breathe.

“Are you going to kill them?” he asks quietly.

Ryan’s silent a moment. He knows the answer, he just feels like somehow this question is more important than it seems.

“No,” he replies finally, and looks over at Jeremy.

The young man is staring at him, something careful in it. Like he’s trying to figure something out here - like he’s on the brink of some decision, some conclusion, working out how he feels about Ryan and this whole situation.

“Go on,” Ryan says - Jeremy startles almost guiltily, “What are you thinking? That you thought I would? I should. What do you think they’d’ve done to me? It would keep all of us safer, send their crew a message.”

“So why don’t you?” Jeremy murmurs, and Ryan lowers the gun and takes a deep breath, shaking the tension from his shoulders.

“Not tonight,” he replies, and some tired uncertainty creeps back into his own voice. “I’m having a really good day - or I was - and I’m not gonna fuck it up by killing someone.” And then, after a moment, “You wanna prove you’re here to help us, you can deal with this mess.”

Jeremy looks at him, startled. _He saved me,_ Ryan realises suddenly, as the shock fades and he remembers exactly what happened just now. He’d been so distracted that if Jeremy hadn’t pushed him out of the way, that car would’ve run him clean over. And Jeremy’s looking at him with wide eyes now - the hardness that Ryan had tried to keep up towards him crumbles a little.

“Be careful,” he says, more gently. “Don’t mess with the Corpirate. If what you say is true - if you really are just trying to clean up this city - then you probably don’t have many allies. So don’t get in over your head.”

Jeremy continues to stare at him, and Ryan reaches up and runs a hand through his hair.

“If all the cops were doing what you say you’re trying to do,” he admits, “This might be a better place. But it’s not. We live in what we live in. I’m just trying to protect Gav, here, that’s why I don’t want you near him. Don’t want you to hurt him more than you already have. Maybe, in time, he’ll want to speak to you again. Or maybe he’ll just want to forget about you entirely. I leave it up to him. Either way, not right now.”

Jeremy’s just looking at him, but Ryan can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He’s not sure what conclusion the other man’s coming to. In any case, he turns and heads back towards the apartment, and when he takes one glance over his shoulder, it’s to see Jeremy slowly bend down and cuff the hands of one of the unconscious men behind his back.

\---

“What took you so long?” Geoff asks, when Ryan slips back into the room. He’s lying in bed, propped up on one elbow, a book open on the bed next to him, one finger holding his page in place. Ryan had half been expecting him to be sprawled out naked in some ridiculous pose. Somehow this is far more endearing.

“I’ll tell you later,” he replies, stripping his shirt off and sitting on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. Geoff shuffles over and rests his chin on his shoulder, and Ryan can’t help his smile as he kicks his socks off. He twists and kisses Geoff gently on the lips before getting up to struggle out of his jeans. He reaches to flick off the main light, and crawls under the bed covers, Geoff putting his book away and snuggling in next to him. The bed’s not huge, and it’s a bit of a squeeze for two grown men to fit in it, but the winter nights are cold enough and the heating in the apartment shitty enough that it’s nice to have someone else cuddled up close, sharing warmth.

“We need to move soon,” Ryan murmurs, but in the faint glow of the reading lamp and with Geoff’s body pressed warm against his back, the room feels cozy and dreamlike, like nothing from outside could ever break in. It doesn’t feel so urgent. Everything happened so quickly out there in the dark and cold; it doesn’t seem real now that he’s in here.

“I’ll help you find a place tomorrow,” Geoff assures him. He wraps an arm around Ryan’s waist and tugs him closer, leaning in to kiss the back of his neck. Ryan lets his eyes slip shut, lets himself get lost in the feeling of Geoff’s hand tracing patterns over his chest, his lips working gently at the top of Ryan’s shoulder.

Abruptly, Jeremy intrudes into his thoughts - the young man out there, alone, desperate to talk to Gavin. Taking those two criminals into the station on his own - coming up with some lie about why he arrested them. How the city has crept into him, too, but while Ryan found Geoff and Gavin, found a place for himself - Jeremy’s trapped, in his own lies and in a system that doesn’t help people, as much as he wants to do good. The people surrounding him won’t help him, not like Ryan’s people have.

It’s unsettling. He pushes it away, lets another thought worm his way in. And then without thinking about it, blurts out, “I love you.”

Geoff goes very still behind him, and Ryan hears his little hitch of breath. He rolls onto his back and turns his head to stare into the other man’s eyes. There’s shock in there, but that’s all.

“Was that too soon?” he asks, carefully.

“No… no.” Geoff shakes himself, then smiles, huffing out a laugh. “It’s been long fucking enough for most things between us.”

He rests a hand on Ryan’s chest and grins at him.

“I love you too,” he says, and Ryan can only stare at him. The sight of him, the softness in his blue eyes, his dark hair - getting too long now - splayed messily across the pillow, the warmth of his hand right over Ryan’s heart… the fondness that swells in his chest is nearly overwhelming, and he surges forward and kisses Geoff with a passion that surprises even himself. Geoff lets out a muffled, surprised noise, then laughs against Ryan’s mouth and kisses him back, his ankle hooking over Ryan’s under the blankets and pressing them even closer together.

And Ryan’s worried about a lot of things - about himself and his identity here, about Gavin, about Jeremy, about the city and the danger they’re in - but the joy is, he can forget it all now. Here with Geoff’s lips on his, knowing they’ll pull through this together.

He’ll tell Geoff everything, he thinks - about Jeremy, and what’s best, what they should do. But not right now.


	4. gavin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **c/w: child neglect**

**iv. gavin**  

“What the bloody fuck happened to your face?” 

Gavin grins sheepishly as he slinks into the warehouse building, shutting the door behind him to keep out the strong briny wind that’s a constant around the bay. His jaw’s throbbing, but he revels in it, in the tired ache of his muscles and the faint stinging across his knees where the fabric of his jeans is rubbing against his grazed skin.

“I fell,” he replies - only half a lie. 

“Off what?” O’Shannassy demands. She’s sitting at a table in this main entrance to the base - is the only person here, at least for now. It’s pretty late at night - Gavin’s been out all day, stealing blueprints for a private yacht that should be arriving soon. He holds them out and O’Shannassy gets up and strides over to him, batting the papers aside and reaching out to grip his face instead, turning it his way and that and tutting. She’s an enormous, imposing woman, built like an ox with a thick Irish accent and a tremendous cloud of curly red hair. Ruthless and violent - but good to him, since he started working for her. She sees his potential, which is more than a lot of people do.

“While running from the security guards at the house,” Gavin replies. “I was climbing over a trellis! That’s a great word, isn’t it. _Trellis_. I love it. But the plans were in the desk drawer just like you said!”

“I told someone else to go on this job.” She lets go of him, glowering sternly down at him, and Gavin just tilts his head.

“They were busy,” he replies brightly. “I handled it.”

“You got your face beat in, that’s what,” she grumbles, and Gavin just shrugs. And okay, maybe a guard caught him and landed a hit, but he still got out of there. After a moment O’Shannassy takes the blueprints and wanders back over to the table.

Gavin goes over to a corner of the room and sits down on the grubby floor. The warehouse isn’t in very good condition, but that keeps people from snooping around it - makes it just one more of the dilapidated buildings surrounding the docks. He takes off his backpack, drinks some water, then starts sticking band-aids over his knees. After some time O’Shannassy comes back over to him.

“Good job,” she says, and Gavin beams. She holds out a fat envelope of money and Gavin takes it and stuffs it into his bag. O’Shannassy stares down at him for a second, then holds out something else.

“Your bonus,” she informs him.

It’s a ring - a fat emerald on a gold band, turned greenish from lack of care. Gavin can tell at a glance that it’s worth quite a bit of money - not a stupidly large amount, but enough that it’ll give them a boost. It’s a step up from the other things she’s given him over the last few months. A flashy watch, a gold chain, all of them expensive looking but not worth all that much compared to the rewards other people in her smuggling crew get.

“Did you cut this off someone’s finger,” he asks suspiciously, and she lets out a roaring laugh.

“Maybe,” she replies, and tosses it at him. Gavin fumbles and fails to catch it, and after he picks it up off the floor he looks up to see she’s leaned very close to him, peering at him almost suspiciously. He stares back, meets her pale eyes surrounded by smudged black kohl. The cunning eyes of a thief, just like him.

“You’ve been acting out lately,” she says slowly. “Getting reckless. Taking jobs that are out of your skill level.”

From a softer woman, it might have seemed almost concerned. Something about O’Shannassy has always reminded Gavin of a great big bear; she’s more than old enough to be his mother and sometimes he wonders what might’ve happened if he’d run into her instead of Geoff, in those first few weeks after he arrived here. He wouldn’t trade Geoff for the world, though. But for now, until the dream becomes real and they can start their own crew properly - she’s a good enough alternative for him to get his name known, take on bigger jobs. And unlike others around here, she takes care of her own - as long as they remain loyal and useful.

“I can handle them,” he begins, but she shushes him with a hiss and a stern look.

“You’re good, Free,” she says. “Better than a lot of other thieves I’ve met. But you’re young. You have a lot to learn, even if _you_ don’t think so. I want to train you up - so don’t get yourself fucking killed before I can. Run all the jobs you want to do past me in the future, alright?”

“Okay,” Gavin agrees, and she flashes her black and gold teeth at him in a grin.

“Good. You need a lift home?”

“No, I’m okay,” Gavin replies, and turns back to dabbing at his scraped knee with a tissue. O’Shannassy doesn’t move - is still staring down at him speculatively. 

“What happened?” she asks suddenly, making him look up again. “You’ve been throwing yourself into work lately.” 

“Just want to work my way up,” he tries, but she’s shaking her head thoughtfully, and she jabs a grimy-nailed finger at him with a triumphant cry.

“Break up!” she cries, and Gavin freezes - “I know that look. You’ve been dumped - or did the dumping - nothing gets someone throwing themselves into work like relationship drama. Huh,” she adds - Gavin’s gone still, his heart pounding, stomach frozen, unsure what to say - “You kids and your crushes. It’s not worth getting yourself killed over some girl.”

“It’s not a girl,” Gavin manages to force out, and she shrugs, still pleased as punch with herself for solving this.

“I don’t care who it is. You’ll get over him, them, whoever it is, eventually. Trust me, when you’re as old as I am you won’t even remember who you were sticking your nob in at twenty.”

“I… okay?”

“Stick to the jobs I order you to do,” she continues. “You’ve got no one to impress around here except this old mama.” 

Gavin forces a smile and a salute. She reaches out and ruffles his hair - he screws his face up; he’s affectionate with people he knows but other people touching him is always a bit _iffy_ \- but she draws back after a moment.

“Good job today,” she says, and his smile is more genuine now as she jostles him and then heads back to her work.

Still. 

_Break up._

It unsettles him as he opens the envelope to count the money she gave him. 

He hadn’t thought of what happened between him and Jeremy as that. In fact, he’s been trying very bloody hard not to think about it at all! But he can’t help it - can’t help how upset he was, the _shock_ of it, like he’d quite literally been burned. It had seemed like a nightmare. It’s constantly at the back of his mind, creeping back in the second he lets his guard down. 

 _None of it was real_. 

He’ll see something he’d like to show the other man, or think of something funny to say to him, only to realise he _can’t_ , anymore. That’s the worst of it. It’ll pop into his head and make him feel sick and he _has_ been throwing himself into work, it’s true, if only because that’s the one damn thing that distracts him. That and Geoff and Ryan. 

Even now, he feels uneasy. Can’t help thinking of Jeremy and his bright smile and his strong arms, how they used to hug, the happy _thrill_ Gavin used to have whenever he saw the other man. How much he’d smiled and laughed when they spent time together, until his jaw literally ached. 

And all of that is gone.

He bites his lip, and focuses on counting the money instead, letting that take over and wash everything else from his mind, _twenty, forty, sixty..._  

\---

Geoff and Ryan pick him up from a shopping district several suburbs away from their flat, because apparently someone’s trying to kill them _again_.

Gavin’s probably not as scared as he should be. That sort of thing - other gangs around here, other criminals - doesn’t frighten him. He doesn’t know why. Maybe because he was scared of so many other things in England that by the time he got to AC he was just all worn out. He’s scared of someone hurting Geoff - or Ryan, now, too - not himself. Besides, what happened with Jeremy was worse, in so many ways. How could anything top that?

The apartment is cluttered with boxes and bags. They’re going to move soon. The entire table is covered in shit and it means that they eat dinner sitting on the floor between the TV and the couch. 

Both Geoff and Ryan are eyeing the bruise on his face with concern. Gavin supposes he can hardly blame them. It’s gotten worse as the night progresses, darkening and turning stiff and sore. It kinda hurts to open his mouth wide. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have made himself such a tall sandwich. He’d gone for a triple decker and wrapped the sliced tomatoes in other salad leaves so that they wouldn’t make the bread soggy. A truly inspired decision, in his opinion. 

Anyway. He’s committed at this point; he has to eat it, even if it’s making his jaw ache. He cannot - _will_ not - be defeated by his own creation. 

“Having trouble there, bud?” Geoff asks finally, when Gavin goes for another ferocious bite and winces.

“I’m all good,” Gavin replies. “I’m like a tyrannosaurus rex.” 

“A tyrannosaurus rex who got hit right in the face with the meteor,” Ryan mumbles, and Geoff’s eyes narrow. 

“That seems to be happening a lot lately,” he begins.

“I know,” Gavin replies quickly. Oh God, he can’t _stand_ pity, not this sort. It makes him all flustered and embarrassed - even from Geoff, and especially in front of Ryan. “It sucks. But I’m okay - it means I’m challenging myself!”

“No,” Geoff replies. “It means you’re in danger.”

“Nah,” is Gavin’s eloquent response to that. “All good, Geoffrey. I was just breaking into a house - nothing I haven’t done a thousand times before. O’Shannassy’s planning on robbing a yacht. I want a yacht one day, a well fancy one.” 

For a moment, he thinks Geoff isn’t going to drop it. But then he seems to think better of pushing it, and sighs. 

“You’d get seasick,” he replies instead. “Your stomach’s so weak.” 

“I’d be fine,” Gavin scoffs, and turns to Ryan, who’s watching the two of them in amusement. “Don’t you want a yacht, Ryan?”  
  
“Yes,” Ryan replies immediately, “I want to be a pirate. Captain Ramsey and his crew,” he adds, with a little grin at Geoff, who grins back. Apparently it’s possible to grin sappily. Gavin is witnessing it with his own two eyes right here and now.

“I’ll have an eyepatch,” he informs them. “Like the Corpirate - I still reckon he has an eye under there. You already look like a pirate, Geoff, with your dumb moustache.”

“Excuse you,” Geoff cries, affronted. “My moustache isn’t dumb! It’s very _dashing_ , don’t you agree, Ryan?” 

Ryan pulls a face. 

“I mean,” he begins, and then trails off awkwardly with a helpless shrug. Gavin breaks down laughing and Geoff stares indignantly at his boyfriend.

“Wow, okay,” he replies. “I feel attacked.” 

Ryan laughs, his croaky laugh that Gavin’s come to love hearing, that makes their apartment feel rowdier and crowded with more than just them in it. 

“I’m just teasing,” Ryan says, and reaches out and twirls the end of Geoff’s moustache around his finger. Geoff takes the opportunity to reach out and grab him, tugging him towards him; off balance from leaning over, Ryan falls into his lap with a startled sort of squawking noise, and Geoff laughs at him. 

“You made me drop my sandwich,” Ryan says sadly, but he’s half-laughing too where he’s sprawled awkwardly against Geoff’s side. 

“Poor Rye-bread,” Geoff mocks, and plants a somewhat slobbery kiss on the side of his head. Gavin mimes gagging, and Geoff glances over at him and scoffs. 

“There he goes again! If you throw up so much you’ll never be able to handle a life at sea.”

“I’ll go and live on a boat just to get away from these gross PDAs,” Gavin retorts, though his tone is joking. He gets up to go and wash his plate - the kitchen’s a mess too; they’ve taken everything out of the cupboards to try and use up before they leave here - and by the time he finishes and gets back to the main room the other two men have migrated to the couch and are cuddled up together, watching TV. Geoff’s lying with his head resting on Ryan’s chest, the other man’s fingers carding idly through his hair, a blanket haphazardly tucked over both of them. 

Gavin pauses in the doorway, biting his lip. They haven’t seen him, and for a moment he doesn’t want to step out, to break the moment between them that suddenly seems to be so intimate. 

He’s happy for them. That’s not a lie, he really _is_ , and he knows they love him too, in a different way - that he’ll always be one of the most important people in Geoff’s life, that Ryan cares about him too. 

But he can’t deny that seeing them together only makes him ache. It’s longing, not jealousy - longing because he wanted _that_ , that comfortable familiarity, that easy affection - he wanted that with Jeremy.

He’s been trying hard not to admit it, but it’s only making it worse to keep denying it. He fell for the other man, hard and fast. It was the first person he’s ever been properly interested in, and he wanted the two of them to _be together_. To cuddle and whisper secrets and go on dates and things like that. _Normal_ stuff. That shit you see in the movies. He never thought he was into all that, until Jeremy came along.

So much for that.

Taking a deep breath, he steps into the room and the two of them look up and smile at him. He forces a smile back, but feels suddenly exhausted.

“I might turn in early,” he says. “I’m tired.”

“Okay,” Geoff replies softly. “You can have the bathroom first. Come here,” he adds, and Gavin smiles and walks over to him. Geoff pulls him into a hug; it’s an awkward angle with the two of them on the couch, but he cuddles Gavin for a minute before messing with his hair.

“Goodnight,” he says, and Gavin huffs. 

“Goodnight,” he replies, and turns to see Ryan grin at him.

“‘night, Gav,” he says, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder too. Gavin pokes him under the chin, making him yelp and turtle up, and then snickers before heading to the bathroom. 

He feels a lot better after a hot shower. Today was hard, even if he’d never admit it. The house was heavily guarded and the security guards faster and smarter than he’d anticipated. He wasn’t scared, even when they noticed him and chased him. The adrenaline took over. Or maybe he just didn’t care about getting hurt. He isn’t sure. Either way, he got out of there - what does it matter, now?

When he emerges from the bathroom he pauses. The living room lights are off but Geoff and Ryan are still in the kitchen, packing jars away into a box. Geoff’s hand is resting on Ryan’s waist, leaning in close to murmur something to him. Things like that have become a familiar sight around here and Gavin bites his lip.

Ryan’s perfect for Geoff. He can’t think of anyone else who’d fit in with them so well, who _understands_ what they do and is so on board with the dream. Ryan’s not in it for money. That helps somehow, even if Geoff and Gavin himself are. He balances them out. They need that sometimes. It’s good for Gavin too, having him here. 

But looking at them now - seeing how well they fit together - he misses that, how he used to think he had the same with Jeremy, and he heads back into his own room and shuts the door.

This apartment has been home for a long time. That’s getting to him too, the fact that they’re going to leave. This place was the first time in years that he actually had a permanent place to live, and he likes the clutter, the mementos, the fact that this room is _his_ space. It feels wrong that everything’s shoved in boxes now. With a sigh he picks up a bottle of gin from his desk and takes a swig before throwing himself onto his messy bed, worming his way under the tangled sheets and curling up. It’s cold at night now with winter coming in; it feels even colder with all the pillows he normally makes a nest of packed up in preparation for them leaving. He pulls his knees up and huddles into a ball, takes another sip from the bottle - careful not to choke, drinking lying down - and then stretches a hand out and grabs his phone from the bedside table, pulling it over to him and switching it on. 

Jeremy texted and called him a few times immediately after the… incident happened. But Gavin had deleted them all, too angry and upset to deal with them.

Since then, he changed his phone in case Jeremy had tracked him down with the old one. Geoff had insisted on it. Now it means Jeremy doesn’t know his number, and it’s sort of killing Gavin slowly that he doesn’t know if the other man is still trying to contact him or not. What he’d be saying if he was. What those previous calls were about, anyway - apologies? More lies? An attempt to salvage things? He’d seen Jeremy’s face when Gavin saw him in his uniform. He hadn’t expected the truth to come out so soon.

Then when? What did Jeremy _want_ from all this? 

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, and throws his phone across the bed with a huff before closing his eyes, fruitlessly. He hasn’t been sleeping well the last few weeks. Waking up is even worse, that sudden remembering of what happened every single day. 

Lately he’s been reading before he goes to bed. He missed so much school as a kid that he’s… really behind, and for a long time he didn’t care. He knows he’s smart in other ways, that it doesn’t matter much, but Geoff reads every day, and at first some weird part of Gavin wanted to impress Jeremy. Back when he thought he was a history student, or whatever, and he got in the habit of reading every night - he’s slow at it, but it distracts him and eventually he knows he’ll drift off and pass out and for a few blissful hours, forget everything that happened. 

\---

 _Self-sufficient_ is the word that Gavin likes to use to describe himself.

Sounds bloody official, doesn’t it? You could put that shit on a resume. 

Self-sufficient, and that’s how he likes it. He lives with Geoff, but he’s always considered that a mutually beneficial relationship rather than him relying on the older man. Maybe that’s just the words of a kid trying to look tough, but that’s how he likes to see it, and he can take care of himself, really. He doesn’t need anyone else, never has.

Which is a good thing, because it’s… possible that there wasn’t anyone else. 

Ever.

Dan doesn’t count; he’s younger than Gavin, albeit only by a couple of months, and even then Gavin’s always been careful not to rely on him too much, to make sure if things suddenly go south he won’t be left vulnerable.

But yeah. His mum leaves when he’s seven years old. He doesn’t remember much about her, but the worst part is never knowing where she went, or where she is now, or why she didn’t take him with her. If she’s even still alive. It takes years before he’s able to tell himself he’s stopped caring.

His father’s a drug dealer, selling cocaine to the rich students over at the university - and there’s a lot of them, pretentious Oxford students, so pristine on the surface. Not so much when it comes to what they do at parties, apparently. And the professors, too - academics, lawyers, businesspeople. There’s a market for it, and his dad’s in with the expensive stuff too, the high-quality shit that these people are willing and rich enough to pay for.

You’d think they’d live comfortably on that money, but his dad spends it all on himself. On booze, mostly, and fast cars he’s always crashing, and trivial shit like that - bribes, too, keeping other dealers off his back by paying off either them or the mercenaries they send after him.

Gavin’s left to his own devices for most of his life. For a few years after his mum leaves, he walks himself to school and back. Then they move houses and there’s no school nearby and he just… never goes again, apparently, since his father doesn’t say much the one time he brings it up, and gets angry every time Gavin tentatively broaches the subject after that. He soon learns not to bring up _anything_ , just exist quietly, sometimes wondering if his dad even realises he still lives in the house.

There isn’t always a lot of food. His dad tends to eat out on his own, and seems to figure Gavin will just take care of himself. He starts stealing money - it’s not hard, it’s all in cash lying around their house, and his father never notices, or Gavin doesn’t think he does, anyway.

It’s not too bad.

I mean, he has no friends and is ignored by his father, and his father’s friends when they come over, and he spends a lot of time running wild in the woods and fields around his house playing imaginary games with himself. Sometimes he goes people-watching in the city, stealing food or money when he can. 

But he has a room to go back to at night, and his dad’s not violent with him, and he doesn’t really know anything else. So in his mind, it’s all fine. Others have it a lot worse. He’s getting by and at least there’s a roof over his head.

Things go wrong shortly after he turns twelve. 

His dad’s out one night when a group of men break into the house and take him hostage. They’re enemies of his father and he doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t understand. That’s the first time he’s scared for his life, when he’s tied up and thrown in the back of a car, when he’s dragged out to some dirty abandoned warehouse and they take a bunch of photos of him with his hands tied behind his back and a black eye and a rag stuffed in his mouth. They call his father, demanding money he apparently owes them, and the worst part is Gavin already knows that he won’t pay. That he won’t come. 

It’s not hard to escape. 

The men aren’t careful and Gavin is small and skinny enough to work his wrists out of the ropes. They leave him unguarded and he climbs through a window and he runs, and- 

And then what?

He can’t go home, is too scared they’ll come back for him again there. So he leaves for the city, and that’s where he stays.

It’s probably telling that he’s jaded enough by this point to get by on his own pretty easily. That he’s envisioned in his head before, when he came here on day trips to people-watch or pickpocket, what it might be like to live on the streets if he ever found himself having to. He already has haunts, places where he knows it’s easiest to steal some money, where he knows people throw away food - an alleyway he can sleep in, sheltered from the rain by overhanging balconies and behind a restaurant where scraps get thrown out at night.

And that’s his life now. 

He grows up there - for a few years, at least. He isn’t on the streets the entire time. He’s in and out of gangs for a bit, finds himself roped into working for or with different people. Has places to sleep now and then, in their hideouts or bases, stealing for them in return. But it never ends well - the first few times he blindly trusts the people who employ him, but every time they take what he gives them and give him nothing in return, just demand more and more. A few of them are violent, brutish - push him around, leave him behind when things get too dangerous - he gets out as soon as he can and resolves not to work with people he doesn’t know again.

So after that he’s on his own. He gets by, day after day spend eking out survival. Money. Warm clothes. Food. It’s not always stealing; he runs courier jobs for criminals now and then, when he needs extra cash.

He’s fourteen when he meets Dan. 

He’s relocated to London after getting in trouble with the police in Oxfordshire. He hates it here, though - it’s bigger, more violent, with a darker criminal underworld, and he gets himself all tangled up in bad stuff when he accidentally pickpockets some big-name gang leader and the guy goes after him. He’s in way over his head and it’s Dan’s father who saves him - he’s got a hit out on the guy and kills him moments before he would’ve killed Gavin. Gavin will never forget that night; the sight of the gun pointed right between his eyes, the funny cold calmness that overtook him. And then a different gunshot, a new face, the startling realisation that he’s still _alive_ , that it isn’t all over yet. 

Dan’s dad is a hitman. A good one, too, in high demand and known for being ruthless. Dan’s trailing around after him, that night and most others, a kid barely Gavin's age but holding a gun and apparently his father’s backup. He’s the one who runs up to Gavin, who exclaims that there’s another kid here, who asks him if he’s okay and gives him food and offers him a place to sleep for the night - his dad’s not impressed by that, but he doesn’t stop him, just says that he’s sure not buying another motel room and if Dan wants some strange street rat sleeping in his bed that’s on him. 

Things change after that. 

It’s not like they adopt him, nothing that official. Gavin doesn’t trust them - he stays that one night, but goes back to running wild after that. Dan’s dad doesn’t care about him, but Dan does, for whatever reason - he’s a bit fucked up too, seems to know no other kids his age - so Gavin drops back by them now and then and he’ll go out for food with Dan, or Dan will patch him up if he’s injured, or they'll go for walks in the city together and talk for hours or go to the arcade. 

Dan lives a mobile life too, drifting between motels and all over the country with his father. The man’s distant, like Gavin’s father but in a different way - not neglectful, just aloof, expecting Dan to take after him and follow his orders. Not very affectionate. Dan’s good at what he does, though, and doesn’t seem to mind his lifestyle; he’s less cold than his father and not afraid to criticise him. Gavin’s wary of both of them, just because of his past experience. But he warms up to Dan, and even if the other man’s dad only speaks to him in grunts and nods, he never hurts Gavin or tells him to go away. So he comes back, more and more, until they’re friends and Dan’s the one person he maybe-sort-of-trusts. _Maybe_. 

Dan teaches him to ride a motorbike, and hold a gun and a knife. He’s not very good at those last two, but the bikes are fun.

And they enjoy it - nights spent whispering to each other, or walking out in the city - Gavin’s not scared when Dan’s with him, he knows the other boy can take care of both of them - and he’s reserved, even once they get to know each other, but there’s something almost innocent and sweet about Dan despite what he does for a living. He’s clearly a follower, not a leader, and has latched onto Gavin like a duckling for whatever reason. Gavin likes that, likes being the one in control. It makes him feel safer. 

Still. He’s still living on the streets and barely scraping by, and he gets it into his head one day to go to America. He has a picture of it built up in his head, some dream-like world where the people are richer and underdogs can work their way up from nothing. He’s gotten himself on the radar of several criminals here, too, and he isn’t sure he’ll last much longer here on his own. He could stay with Dan and his dad permanently, but he doesn’t want to - a life of taking bounties and hits makes him feel sick. 

Dan knows from his father where Gavin can get a fake passport. They start saving up, Dan wanting to help him too and putting all the money he earns towards it as well. It doesn’t take long. 

Dan is the only person he says goodbye to. They hug for a long time, and Gavin doesn’t know how to thank him for everything he’s done, but Dan just squeezes him tight and murmurs, “See you out there one day,” and for some reason that makes Gavin feel less like he’s about to fly off into some empty unknown - like there actually is a future out there for him and he can make something of himself, not spend the rest of his life living day-by-day, picking for scraps. He gets on the plane dreaming of America and money and riches. 

When he arrives, Achievement City is noisy, crowded, cluttered, dirty - a constant whirlwind of noise and chaos and hard-eyed people pushing past one another in the streets and yelling. The roads are ripe with thieves and people have adapted - keep their wallets on chains or their money in their breast pockets - Gavin didn’t think it’d be so _hard_ , here, and for a while he’s struggling. It’s rougher in this place than it was in London and he’s out of his depth, unable to scavenge enough to get by. 

He flounders for two weeks, feeling like he’s drowning, before he meets Geoff.

At first Gavin is scared of him. It’s not like Geoff’s all that old, but Gavin’s wary of adults and there’s something cunning about him, something too smart that makes Gavin feel like he’s being played even when the other man saves him. That’s why he tries to play Geoff right back, why he talks him into taking him home then robs him and runs away. He’s surprised Geoff falls for it. 

He doesn’t know why he feels bad immediately.

Maybe because Geoff trusted him and took him in, and he doesn't want to be the one who turns on and abandons people. And he can’t be alone forever, even if part of him wants to. But he misses Dan, and Geoff was kind to him, and he has nowhere else to _go_ here- 

So he goes back to Geoff. And he stays. And maybe it takes him a while to open up to him, and to stop waking up every few hours to check Geoff’s still sleeping and not about to turn on him, or to leave his food in the kitchen instead of hidden in various places around his room, but he does trust him, eventually.

And now he has a brother. 

Things are good here. The best they’ve ever been. He’s safe, and he’s not scared every day and he has a dream for the future here with Geoff, and he trusts the other man enough that he doesn’t worry constantly about him leaving. He likes what they have here and he _doesn’t_ like change and he hates letting others in and he clings to what he has - he went through all the phases with Ryan, too - hating him, then accepting him, then being worried he’ll leave, and now trusting him, too.

And he never thinks twice about what they do here - the stealing, the lying. The killing, eventually. He knows it’s coming. He knows Ryan has. He doesn’t like to be cruel but he also doesn’t really gives a fuck about morals; the world was never kind to him and these people are bad anyway - that’s probably not a good thing, he knows it worried Jeremy. But he can’t help it, it’s how he is, and he loves his family, anyway, he loves _having_ one, now. 

Still. He can’t quite stop that reckless streak he has - not caring about his own safety, just pushing for more and more, always feeling like he can’t slow down, can’t stop or everything will catch up to him. The only time he did feel like he wasn’t in a constant rush to be on top of everyone else in the world, to be smarter and better and _faster_ than them so he could survive, was around Jeremy. Innocent, normal Jeremy who wasn’t part of all this - who made Gavin feel like he could slow down and take a timeout and not constantly be part of it too. That helped in a weird way, made him feel a bit less fucked up.

But it’s gone now. So here they are.

\--- 

Having apparently “proved his chops” stealing the yacht blueprints, Gavin’s pleased when O’Shannassy puts him in charge of planning the whole operation. If there were criminal resumes (well, there are, but they're just called ‘horrifying reputations’) that’d be something to put in it.

It means he spends a lot more time at the base planning than he does out in the field now, unless he needs to go hunting for intel, and he’s sitting at the table on one such day going over timetables and schedules when O’Shannassy’s sister shows up. 

He’s met her once before. Niamh O’Shannassy is a hard-faced woman - if her sister’s a bear, she’s a wild dog, all sharp lean angles and glinting eyes, her own wild red hair shaved into a buzz cut that only makes her look more menacing. She’s a freelance mercenary, Gavin knows. Takes bounties, mostly. 

O’Shannassy greets her with a literal roar, is met with a grunt, and then they sit down and mutter at each other for a while, while Gavin sits at the table eavesdropping and scribbling in his notebook looking busy. He feels a bit like the child colouring with crayons in the corner while the adults talk. 

“Corpirate, huh,” O’Shannassy says eventually, and Gavin’s ears prick up. “Who’s he need killing nowadays? Don’t get tangled in anything too big.”

“It’s nothing major,” Niamh mutters back. ‘Mutter’ seems to be her default tone, alongside ‘grunt,’ ‘scoff,’ and ‘snap.’ “The job he’s hiring for sounds like an easy hit. Some police cadet who keeps looking into him.” 

Gavin stiffens - and Niamh, sharp as a tack, notices and her head snaps up to look at him. He keeps his head down, but can still feel those wolfish eyes on him.

“Who’s the kid?” Niamh asks abruptly, voice tight, and O’Shannassy glances up and shrugs.

“No one. Just one of my thieves. Gav, get us some drinks, there’s a good boy.” She waves a hand at the fridge across the room; Niamh still looks suspicious, but Gavin’s good at making himself look small and unthreatening. He scurries across the room, head down, and after a moment Niamh sighs and turns back to her sister.

“What was I saying? Oh yeah, some kid in the police who’s been going around, asking questions. Seems to be trying to look into Thomas Decker’s death. The pigs were meant to drop that case.”

“Sounds like some idiot’s trying to play hero,” O’Shannassy replies. She doesn’t even glance up at Gavin as he passes her a beer. His heart is pounding, and it’s a struggle to keep his face straight. 

 _Jeremy_. 

It’s him, it has to be. Oh, shit, bloody _shit_ \- what’s he gotten himself into now? 

 _I told you not to get yourself mixed up in all this. Damn it…_  

“Well, he won’t be playing hero for long,” Niamh mutters, as Gavin numbly passes her a bottle as well. “There’s a big fat price on his head and I’ll be after it soon.”

“Yeah, well once you’re done with it, I have some jobs here I’d like your help with…” 

Gavin slips away as they continue talking, outside where he leans against the wall, taking deep breaths. 

He feels sick. Jeremy’s in danger, and no matter what he did, Gavin still thinks of him as who he _was_ \- sweet Jeremy who gave him his scarf when he was cold, who bought him breakfast, who saved him in that alley. Jeremy who always said he wanted to do right by people. And he’d wronged Gavin, terribly, but here he is now trying to take the Corpirate down - is that why? Did he really believe he was using Gavin just to help the rest of the city?

Either way, Gavin can’t stand the thought of him hurt - or _worse_ \- and he knows Niamh is vicious and skilled. Not to mention, apparently just one of multiple people after the price on his head. Jeremy won’t stand a chance.

 _I have to warn him,_ Gavin thinks, frantically. _I have to get him out of there_.

 ---

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Geoff hisses. His face contorts very quickly through _disbelief_ , _shock_ and then a rather constipated looking form of _concern_ when he exits the room where he was having a meeting with Sato to find Gavin standing out in the corridor waiting for him.

Gavin can’t blame him for being surprised. He never comes to Geoff’s workplaces, just like Geoff never comes to see him with O’Shannassy. They don’t want their employers knowing who their families are - it’s safer, that way - but this is an emergency, so here he is now.

“We have to talk,” he replies, in a hiss - Sato and a bunch of suit clad men are starting to trickle out of the room, and Geoff grabs his shoulder and leads him through the corridors of the base, keeping him close to his side. They arrive at another office and he pushes Gavin inside and pulls the blinds down over the doors.

“You have your own office?” Gavin can’t help blurting out; he knew Geoff was moving up in this crew but he hadn’t realised it was this much. “Fancy.” 

Geoff shuts the door and locks it, and Gavin looks around the room. It’s small, just a desk and bookshelves and a lot of papers lying around, but there’s a drawing sticky taped to the back of the door that’s weirdly familiar, and he walks up and peers at it.

“Hey!” he exclaims. “I drew that! That’s my head-going-up-your-own-arse diagram. Aww, Geoff, you kept it?”

“Shut up,” Geoff says, his cheeks turning red - despite the situation they’re in, Gavin can’t help the sudden surge of fondness in his chest, how oddly touched he is that Geoff kept his stupid picture, that he stuck it up in his workplace. He smiles for a moment, but it fades when Geoff steps towards him and he remembers why he’s here. “What’s going on, did something happen? Are you okay?”

He squeezes Gavin’s shoulder, and Gavin nods quickly.

“Yes - no - I… I’m fine, but Jeremy’s in danger. I have to warn him.”

Geoff’s eyes widen, then a strange look passes over his face. He lets go of Gavin and moves to sit on the edge of his desk. His face is unreadable, but something seems off. Gavin knows him well enough to tell.

“Danger from what?” Geoff asks - quietly, voice tight.

Gavin takes a deep breath, gathering himself. He’s still fired up and nervous, wants to stop wasting time and just get to Jeremy. But he needs to explain, get Geoff to back him up on this.

“He went poking his nose into the Corpirate’s business,” he begins. “I told you, that’s what he wanted from me all along. I guess they noticed he was asking questions, and now there’s a price on his head. I know my boss’ sister, a bounty hunter, is after him, and God knows how many others might be. We have to warn him and get him out of there - get him somewhere safe. They won’t think to look for him if he’s with us.”

Geoff nods, slowly, but it’s not an _I’m-on-board-with-this_ sort of nod. It’s just an _okay-I-understand_ sort of nod, and Gavin steps towards him.

“Geoff,” he begins. It comes out a plea. “We have to help him, Geoff.”

“Gav… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Geoff replies hesitantly, and Gavin feels suddenly cold.

“Why?”

“We still can’t trust him. Not to mention that the last thing we need is someone _else_ trying to kill us, especially the Corpirate! It’ll put a target on our backs, and for what? Someone who’s already betrayed us once? It’s for the best that we let him go after what he did to you - let it sort itself out. He’s a cop,” he adds, “He’ll probably be fine. He knows how to take care of himself.”

Wow. Okay. Gavin can’t fucking believe this. There’s something too calm and rational in Geoff’s voice, and Gavin doesn’t like it. It’s not the Geoff he knows. The Geoff he knows saved him and let him stay in his apartment on impulse - the Geoff he knows invited Ryan to live with them when they barely knew him - the Geoff he _loves_ doesn’t do this, this cold, calculating pragmatism. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him.

“He’ll die, Geoff,” he chokes out. “Remember what the Corpirate did to Ryan? Why don’t you want us to do this-”

“Because I don’t trust him,” Geoff cuts in.

“You don’t _know_ him,” Gavin snaps. He realises his fists are clenched and slowly releases them, swallowing hard. “You only met him once. And yes, he betrayed me but I… I still don’t know why and _before_ that, before that we had… something, I don’t know - he’s in _danger_ , Geoff, I can’t _leave him_. I can’t let him die. I still care about him. Maybe it’s stupid but I _do_. Besides,” he adds, “Ryan tried to kill us once, didn’t he? But then he saved your life.”

Geoff hesitates, suddenly, and it’s not at the mention of Ryan. Gavin notices, and frowns. He’s still got that skin-crawling feeling that there’s something else going on here, some secret that he’s out of the loop on.

“Geoff?” he demands, and steps even closer to him. “What aren’t you telling me? Do you know something?”

Geoff looks away, his fingers clutching at the end of the desk, not meeting Gavin’s eyes as the other man stares at him desperately. Here at work, with his moustache neatly waxed and his hair slicked back and dressed up in his suit and bowtie, he should be as confident and assured as he’s ever been. As capable of lying, of seeming in control of everything. But Gavin can only see his brother, under it all. Hesitant and uncertain and not telling him the damn truth.

“He… he saved Ryan’s life,” Geoff admits, finally.

“Who?”

“Jeremy,” Geoff says - Gavin’s heart nearly stops - “A few weeks ago.”

“What?” Gavin demands - because _he_ hadn’t spoken to Jeremy, in his mind the other man had been far away, distant across the other city of the city, displaced from all of them - “How - where?”

“That gang you and Ryan went after for Sato - they came after Ryan, wanted to get back on him. They came to the apartment and Ryan and Jeremy were talking outside. They fought them off together, then Jeremy took care of it.”

“Why was Jeremy at the apartment?” Gavin asks, confused - but Geoff turns and finally looks at him, and it hits him. His legs feel weak, suddenly; he doesn’t know what to think. For a moment, he can’t say anything. Then it registers, and something annoyed wells up in him. It’s the easiest thing to feel right now.

“He was there to see me,” he demands, “And you guys didn’t tell me? What else did he say?" 

Geoff bites his lip, and Gavin walks up to him and grabs his shoulder, shaking him.

“Geoff, what did he _say_? I have to know-”

“That he was in love with you,” Geoff blurts out, and Gavin freezes, his hand slipping off the other man’s arm - Geoff stares up at him, eyes burning, something frantic and torn in his face. “Gavin - that’s why I don’t trust him, I… he’s basically been stalking you. Same way he did at the beginning when he worked out how you were related to us. Look, Gav, I… I don’t want your judgment to be clouded here-”

“I can’t believe this-” 

“I don’t know what to think either. Ryan and I have been trying to figure out what to do but _we_ didn’t know, we didn’t know if he was lying to us the same way he lied to you, if this was all some trap-“ 

“ _You_ lied to me,” Gavin cries, and Geoff bites his lip, helpless. 

“Only by omission,” he points out, and Gavin scowls at him. 

“Don’t try that bullshit manipulation with me,” he snaps. “I’m not your client. And I’m not a child any more, Geoff, I’m not _your_ child. I don’t need you trying to protect me. I can make my own choices. And I’m gonna help him, with or without you.” 

He turns on his heel and heads for the door, so furious he can hardly think straight. He barely gets two steps before a hand wraps around his arm and yanks him back. 

“Gav, wait,” Geoff begins - Gavin struggles, squirming as Geoff tries to pin him against his chest. He shoves at the other man, reaching up and putting a hand on his face and pushing him back.

“Gavin,” Geoff splutters between his fingers. “I’ll-” 

He breaks off as Gavin shoves him back and manages to wriggle free before running for the door, flinging it open so hard it slams against the wall. Gavin sprints out of the base, slowing down when he gets to the doors where Sato’s guards eye him suspiciously. He storms out and starts running again as soon as he’s out of their sight. Jeremy’s apartment isn’t far from here - they walked past it a few times together. Unless he was lying about that too - Gavin can only hope that he wasn’t, that he really does live near the uni like he said.

He’s halfway gone before he slows down to catch his breath and in the moments that he has to finally slow down and think a bit, he realises Geoff probably would’ve come with him if he insisted. That he could have called Ryan, too - he assumes the other man’s out on a job somewhere. That if he’d made it clear he was going with or without them, they’d’ve resigned themselves to it.

But it’s too late now. There’s no time to waste. He has to get to Jeremy’s apartment before anyone else does, can only hope the other man is there and not at work. Taking a deep breath, he starts running again. 

\--- 

Jeremy is not at his apartment. 

He must be at work - his shifts are all over the place and because they haven’t spoken in weeks Gavin doesn’t know where he is. He wants to call him, but doesn’t have his number memorised and lost it when he changed his phone. Damn it! 

He also blocked Jeremy on facebook. Or rather, Geoff did, with great relish, while Gavin watched on uncaring. But if Jeremy is at work, he won’t see a message in time. 

It means that he’s left sitting on the curb outside Jeremy’s apartment all forlorn like, waiting in trepidation for either the other man to show up, or an army of assassins. He isn’t sure which he’s more scared of. 

He sits there for twenty minutes, unsure what else to do, jumping at every car that goes by. When Jeremy finally pulls up on a motorbike his heart skips a beat and he grows so nervous that he thinks he might throw up. He wasn’t prepared to see the other man, even if he specifically came here looking for him - after so long, finally seeing him again sends a jolt through him, and he realises he’s trembling. He forces himself to his feet and stumbles towards Jeremy, who’s just pulling his helmet off. When he turns and notices Gavin he freezes, too. 

He looks tired. Tired and worn down, dark shadows under his eyes. Gavin hates to see him upset, despite everything. And still - even after all this - something about him draws Gavin towards him, something comforting and familiar. 

“Gavin,” Jeremy chokes out, and something passes across his face, something a mix of strained and hurt and _relieved_. He reaches a hand out. “Gavin, Gavin I’m so sorry, I-”

“You’re in danger,” Gavin blurts out. Once that’s out, it’s easier to continue, to stick to the task at hand. “We have to go. There are people after you because of the Corpirate - come on!”

“What?” Jeremy asks, confused, and Gavin grabs his arm and tugs at him.

“You’re in danger, we need to leave right now, we can talk later-”

“I don’t-”

A shot rings out suddenly and Gavin yanks Jeremy down to the ground behind the motorbike. The fact that he’d pulled Jeremy’s arm to try and get him to move is the only thing that saved his life; the shot hits the wall of the apartment building behind them, leaving a nasty crack in the brickwork. A sniper’s shot, from a building across the street - they must’ve been waiting for Jeremy to come home. From there they could’ve aimed through his window, too.

Gavin’s ears are ringing. They’re lying on the footpath, faces close to each other - they exchange a wide eyed look, both equally shocked, before Gavin scrambles to his feet and pulls Jeremy up with him.

“Inside, inside!” he cries, and Jeremy stumbles after him. They race into the foyer of the apartment building - it feels safer inside, but Gavin knows it won’t be for long. They skid to a halt, looking frantically around - there isn’t anywhere to hide, if they go upstairs they’ll be trapped- 

“Out the back!” Jeremy cries, and grabs Gavin’s hand. Gavin barely even notices, running alongside the other man out the other door in the foyer. There’s a courtyard out the back of the apartment block - but there’s nothing there except clotheslines and some sort of communal vegetable garden that it looks a hell of a lot like someone’s growing marijuana in it.

“There’s nowhere to go!” Gavin cries.

Jeremy pulls out his own gun; he’s in uniform, has one at his belt. His hands are shaking and he’s still clutching Gavin. Beyond the three walls of the courtyard are nothing but narrow alleyways that end up blocked off by other apartment units and dumpsters.

“Where can we go?” Jeremy asks. “We can’t escape on foot, we need a vehicle-”

“We need to get back to your bike,” Gavin says, thinking quickly - if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s finding escape routes, slipping his way out of tight situations. “And then get back to my place. They’ll follow us out here - or go upstairs - we need to wait until they’re not out the front any more. Come on, we’ll hide for now and then take the first chance we get!”

Jeremy nods, seeming glad that he’s taken control. They head over to the courtyard wall. Gavin can climb over easily, but Jeremy doesn’t seem to know thatl; he sizes it up and then offers Gavin a boost. Gavin doesn’t know why he accepts; he could’ve gotten up on his own. But he lets Jeremy lift him up easily - _God, he’s strong_ \- doesn’t dwell on the feeling of the other man’s hands on his waist as he boosts him to the top of the wall where he stretches a hand down and pulls Jeremy up after him. 

They jump down to the other side, to the narrow gap between this building and the next. It’s claustrophobic in here, nowhere to go, and they stand close together, breathing heavily. Waiting to see what happens.

The silence is terrible. Any moment Gavin expects gunfire to break out, or someone to come leaping over the wall to attack them. His heart is pounding and he can feel Jeremy trembling where the other man is pressed against his side. He looks over at the same time that Jeremy glances at him, and their eyes meet, awkwardly. 

“You came to warn me,” he whispers, and Gavin bites his lip.

“I wasn’t about to let them kill you,” he hisses back.

His heart’s slamming in his chest so fast that it hurts. _Maybe this was a bad idea_. Seeing Jeremy again, being so _close_ to him, is killing him slowly. He’s so anxious that he feels sick, and worst of all is the fact that he still longs for the other man. That seeing him again after all these weeks is only reminding him how much he missed him, how much he wants him back - how he still has a burning love for him that he can’t dispel even after what happened. 

And that’s terrifying, because he knows he shouldn’t trust Jeremy, could get hurt all over again - but he can’t _stop_ himself, and after a lifetime of keeping himself controlled and distant, it’s confusing and scary.

He must look upset, because _Jeremy_ looks upset, too.

“Thank you,” he replies softly, and then reaches out and abruptly pulls Gavin into a hug.

Gavin sort of just… stands there. He wants to embrace Jeremy too, to squeeze him tightly and let himself fall into the warm comfort of the other man’s arms. But he’s scared to hug him back, can’t let himself _have this_ in case it turns out badly again.

Jeremy lets go of him when he realises how stiffly he’s standing, pulling back. He looks a little hurt, but before he can do anything, there’s the _bang_ of a door slamming from the other side of the wall, and they both jump. 

“Fuck,” Gavin whispers - he hoists himself up the wall a little way, peering over. There’s a clothesline covered in bedsheets in front of them, concealing him from view, but he can see the figure of a woman on the other side, moving around. It’s definitely Niamh.

“She’s looking around,” he hisses, dropping back down - Jeremy’s got his gun out, again. “Don’t come this way, don’t come this way…”

There’s a horrifying, tense moment in which they both wait with baited breath. Niamh’s footsteps are quiet and they can’t hear what she’s doing out there.

Then, like a jumpscare from some horror movie, her bald head pops up over the wall with a horrible snarl.

Gavin barely has time to react. Fast as lightning, she reaches over and grabs him by the hair, smashing his head against the wall. He stumbles, vision flashing for a moment as pain explodes in the back of his skull. He’s dazed and dizzy as he slumps back and barely registers her leap over the wall with almost superhuman ease.

Jeremy fires his gun at her, but seems to miss - she kicks it out of his hand as she lands and then punches him across the face before raising her own gun - but Jeremy ducks low and tackles her around the waist, managing to somehow knock her to the ground. He kicks at her and Gavin gets his senses back just in time to snatch up one of the guns and hit her across the face with it as she starts to try and get up. For some reason that’s the first thing he thinks to do instead of, you know, shooting her. 

“Go, go!” he cries, and vaults back over the wall. Jeremy’s hot on his heels, and while Niamh is dazed they make a break for it, sprinting back through the foyer of the apartment building and out into the street again.

Jeremy scrambles onto the bike and Gavin jumps on behind him. They speed off without looking back and he clings to Jeremy, clutching him around the waist tightly as they lurch into motion. He looks back over his shoulder and after a time sees Niamh burst out of the apartment again. She lifts her gun but they’re already speeding around a corner.

“We need to lose her,” Gavin yells. “Turn there!” 

Jeremy turns immediately, and Gavin directs him through the city as they speed around other traffic, taking a random series of turns that will hopefully throw Niamh off. It seems to work because she never appears behind them again, and once half an hour’s passed and they’re reasonably sure they’ve lost her, they slow down a bit, Jeremy bringing the bike to a standstill by the side of the road. 

For a moment they both catch their breath. Gavin realises he’s still clinging to Jeremy’s waist tightly, and lets go, shifting back away from him a little. Jeremy looks back over his shoulder, face windflushed. There’s a reddening bruise on his jaw where Niamh hit him, and Gavin reaches up and touches his own head. It aches where it was slammed into the wall, itchy with dried blood. He’d nearly forgotten about it until now, adrenaline flooding the pain out.

“You okay?” Jeremy asks softly, and Gavin nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

Jeremy nods, and Gavin clambers off the bike and looks around. 

“We’re not too far from my place. Let’s go back there. We’re about to move house so it’s the safest place to be.”

“Gavin,” Jeremy says, and Gavin looks back over at him - can’t help the way he wraps his arms around himself protectively just at meeting the other man’s eyes. “What’s going on here?” 

He’s not panicking, but he’s clearly confused and scared, and Gavin takes a deep breath.

“The Corpirate noticed you’ve been asking questions. He’s put a bounty on your head - that woman’s not the only one. But she’s my boss’ sister and I heard she was after you and came to warn you. I wasn’t about to let them kill you,” he repeats, defensively, and Jeremy nods, looking away and fiddling with the zipper of his windbreaker. 

“Thank you,” he says again, and there’s a very awkward silence. 

They shouldn’t be standing around here in the street. They should be getting inside and to safety as soon as they can. But there’s something too tense and unspoken between them. Gavin’s scared to talk about all the things they need to, and he opens his mouth to say they should get going, but he can’t bring himself to get back on the bike just yet. 

Jeremy was looking away, lost in thought, but he abruptly turns back to Gavin and in the end he’s the one to speak first. 

“I’m glad you got out of that arrest okay,” he says, and scoffs out a laugh. “Larson was… really, _really_ mad about that. Nice job kicking scalding coffee onto his crotch, I’ve wanted to do that a few times myself. But I was relieved when I heard you escaped. I didn’t know what would happen to you.”

“You’re a cop,” Gavin says flatly, and Jeremy looks down at his uniform. His face twists.

“I know,” he replies, “I’m so sorry for what happened, Gav. I can’t say it enough times. But I swear to God, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I… I’d been investigating Ryan and Geoff because I knew they were involved in Decker’s death and no one else would look into it.”

“They didn’t kill him.”

“I know. You told me that. I believe you.” He looks away for a moment - Gavin’s still standing a couple of metres away, hugging himself and unable to move - Jeremy looks back up, something desperately pleading in his face. “But I… I needed information and I thought I could get it from you. I didn’t… I never intended for this to become what it was. For us to get so close, for it to become real.” He hesitates, swallows hard, then blurts out, “For me to fall in love with you.”

Gavin startles, taken aback by how blatantly he admitted it. Jeremy’s gone red now, breathing heavily, but he doesn’t take the words back. Just lifts his chin and holds Gavin’s gaze, almost defiantly.

Gavin swallows hard. The words sent a thrill through him, a funny sort of shock. And Geoff’s said similar things to him a thousand times before - even Dan, once - but not like this. Never like this. He thinks he should be scared, but he isn’t.

“Dropping the L word already?” he croaks out finally, needing to mock if only because he doesn’t know what the hell else to say. Jeremy sees through it, of course he does. He knows Gavin too well by now.

“Because it’s true,” he replies, more calmly now. “I did. I fell for you and that scared me. I didn’t know what to do, how to tell you the truth. I didn’t intend - I never _wanted_ \- for you to get so hurt. And I wish the truth could have come out under better circumstances, but… I can’t think of any way you wouldn’t have been upset. I swear, Gavin, I never wanted to hurt you. And I’m sorry I lied. I know it’s hard for you to trust people and I hate myself for breaking that. I’m sorry.”

Gavin stares at him for a long moment. He feels uncomfortably vulnerable and drops his arms to his sides where they hang, awkwardly.

“Okay,” he whispers finally, and looks away. He can’t think what else to say. “Apology… acknowledged, I guess? Just… take me home, will you? I don’t trust you. I can’t, not yet. I believe you don’t want to hurt us right now, but I don’t _trust_ you.”

“That’s understandable,” Jeremy says, and takes a deep breath. When he lets it out he’s calmer, resigned. “Okay. Okay, let’s go back to yours.”

\--- 

Gavin has eight missed calls from Geoff. He texts him telling him they’re coming home and the other man is waiting with Ryan when they arrive - peering through the blinds of the window all suspicious, like he’s just waiting for the police to show up. Or the Corpirate.

But no one follows them there, and when they walk into the apartment Geoff spins around from the window and strides over to them, seizing Gavin by the shoulders and shaking him hard.

“You _idiot_.” There’s fear in his voice, underpinning the anger. “You fucking idiot, why would you run off like that? I would have come with you.”

“I’m fine, Geoff,” Gavin replies, unwillingly guilty at how scared Geoff looks.

“You’re bleeding,” Ryan points out. He’s standing by the side of the room, arms folded but with his gun within reach. His eyes don’t leave Jeremy as he speaks - the cop is hanging awkwardly back.

Gavin touches the back of his head. 

“I’m _fine_. O’Shannassy attacked us, but we got away. She didn’t follow us here. We both got out okay, but I barely got there in time.” 

“I hate you sometimes.” Geoff’s still holding onto him, and there’s no venom in his voice. “Don’t do shit like that again, I can’t… I can’t lose you, Gavin.”

Gavin reaches up and touches his hand.

“I’m okay,” he replies, but there’s an apology in how quietly he says it, and Geoff’s face softens. He cups Gavin’s cheek for a moment before letting his hand drop and turning to Jeremy. 

“So,” he says. 

“So,” Jeremy replies, meeting his eyes awkwardly. “Looks like the city’s out for my blood.” 

“I warned you,” Ryan pipes up. “You shouldn’t have pushed the Corpirate. He’s too powerful.” 

“I have become brutally aware of that,” Jeremy says, and sighs. “I’ve already told Ryan I didn’t mean for all this to happen. I told Gavin too. I get it if you don’t believe me. If you want me to go, I’ll go - I’ll leave the city, I can find somewhere else…” 

Gavin isn’t sure why the thought of that makes him so upset. Logically, it’s the smartest thing to do - get away from this city, out of the Corpirate’s reach - but the thought of never seeing Jeremy again… even these last few weeks he’s never quite thought that they were on opposite sides, that they’d never be able to fix things. 

“He’ll get you on the way out if you’re not careful,” Geoff warns, and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Every second you’re here the rest of us are in danger.”

“Geoff,” Gavin says softly, and Geoff looks up and meets his eyes. Must see the plea in there.

It’s rare that Gavin asks him for things. When he does they’re usually framed as a joke or a suggestion. But directly asking for something - he’s never liked that, hates feeling reliant or like a burden. Self-sufficient, right?

But Geoff’s in charge here. It’s the unspoken rule; he’s the leader of their crew. And if he says here and now that Jeremy can’t stay, then he won’t stay.

Gavin can see that he’s torn. After a moment Geoff glances at Ryan and some silent exchange passes between them. Jeremy is watching in silence, resigned to whatever choice they make.

“Okay,” Geoff says finally. “Okay. You might as well stay here for a bit, help us move house. If Niamh recognised you, O’Shannassy will be out for your blood too, Gavin.”

He winces - of course Niamh will go back and tell her sister that her precious little thief had been eavesdropping and turned on them. He’s faintly sad; that crew was a good job and he’d gained a lot of money and experience there. He’ll be sorry that they’re enemies now.

But at least Jeremy’s alive, and the relief floods in as he realises just what Geoff’s agreed to.

“Thank you,” Jeremy says, relief washing over his face too. Gavin moves forward and hugs Geoff tightly; the other man hugs him back, pressing his face into Gavin’s hair for a second before letting him go.

“Go clean yourself up,” he says. “And let me have a look at that head wound.”

Gavin nods. He looks over his shoulder and it hits him then that Jeremy will be staying with them - that they’ll have to talk - the anxiety rises up again, but he pushes it away. Worry about that later. For now he can just hope that they’ll work things out. It seems, from what Jeremy told him earlier, that he wants to, and if Gavin can let himself - maybe things will be okay.

\---

An awkward rap at the door has Gavin looking up from where he was lying sprawled on his bed in a tangled nest of blankets and pillow. Jeremy’s hovering in the doorway, staring in at him - he’d been patching himself up in the bathroom last Gavin saw him, and he’d gone to have a lie-down, trying to sort out exactly what he was feeling about all this.

“Hi,” Gavin says, awkwardly sitting upright a bit.

“Hi,” Jeremy replies, and glances over his shoulder. “Can I, um… come in?”

Gavin nods, vigorously. It’s oddly intimate, Jeremy suddenly being in his room. He’d imagined inviting the other man over, back when they were friends, back before he knew. Hadn’t thought it’d happen like this. Everything looks neater than it normally does since it’s all packed up in boxes, but it means the usual personality of his room and all his stolen trinkets is gone. 

Jeremy inches in. There’s a box on Gavin’s desk chair, and he seems to feel shy about picking it up and moving it, so he hovers awkwardly until Gavin rolls his eyes and gestures for him to sit on the bed. Jeremy sits, tentatively, and Gavin props himself up on a big pile of pillows and peers out the open door. The others are nowhere in sight.

“Where’re Geoff and Ryan?”

“In their room. The door’s shut.”

“Oh. So they’re banging.”

Jeremy’s cheeks turn pink.

“I don’t think so,” he says, and Gavin laughs.

“I’m kidding. They’re having a _grown ups talk_.” He pulls a face and affectedly plays with his phone. “Probably about us.”

Jeremy looks worried. “If it’s inconvenient having me here-”

“They won’t kick you out,” Gavin assures him. “Geoff made a big show of it, but he’s… he’s not like that. They were pissed about what you did, but I heard you saved Ryan’s life, and you pretty much saved mine today too, so. It will all be fine. We’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy says, sincerely, and Gavin bites his lip and shrugs, focusing on his phone again. When he looks up Jeremy’s peering around the room, and after a moment he reaches out and picks up a book on the bedside table.

“You’ve been reading,” he says. “The Iliad?”

Gavin feels his cheeks heat.

“I can read,” he says, defensively. “I’m smart too.” 

He’s been struggling through it, but the translation he nicked from the university library is a good one. It’s interesting. It gives him something to talk to Ryan about, as well. Makes him feel all cultured and shit. 

“Of course you’re smart,” Jeremy says softly, but Gavin knows what he’s thinking; all the lies he must’ve told Gavin about studying history, about his ancient Greek units. He’d talked a good talk - must’ve done it at high school, or just researched it on sparknotes or something to give his backstory more oomph. Sure had Gavin fooled.

He looks away resolutely, and Jeremy lowers the book, something a little sad in his face. He looks around the rest of the room.

“All my stuff’s packed up,” Gavin says, awkward and wanting to fill the silence. It’s weird having Jeremy sitting on his bed so close to him. “All my stolen property.”

“Why are you guys moving house?” Jeremy asks, and Gavin puts his phone down and stares up at the ceiling.

“Because of you,” he says, and Jeremy stiffens. “We were worried you’d bring cops here to arrest us. Plus those guys who attacked you and Ryan know where we live now. O’Shannassy knows the area too, so we need to go as soon as possible. It’s safer to move.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy says. “I mean it. This… this is your life, your home, and now it’s all uprooted because of me.”

“We would’ve moved eventually, anyway. It’s a bit small here for three. But I was upset at first… I haven’t had a home like this in, well… never, until I got here. It’s gonna be sad to leave.” He picks at the edge of his blanket and then looks over at Jeremy again. “But it’s not about the flat, you know? It’s having Geoff and Ryan here with me. No matter where we go, it’ll be home.” 

Jeremy smiles faintly.

“I’m glad you have them,” he murmurs. He looks away again, shoulders hunched, and it hits Gavin suddenly that everything’s changed for him. He can’t go back to his own home. He can’t go back to work, because half the cops there work for the Corpirate. He’s lost and adrift just like Gavin was when he first got here.

And Gavin and his family are the only people remotely on his side in all this.

He shifts closer to Jeremy on the bed, and the other man looks up.

“Are you scared?” Gavin asks quietly, and Jeremy looks down at his hands.

“Yes,” he whispers, and Gavin bites his lip. After a moment, he reaches out and rests a hand lightly on Jeremy’s shoulder; the other man glances up at him in surprise, then gives a small smile and leans into the touch. Gavin pulls him close and they settle back against the headboard of the bed, Jeremy’s head resting on Gavin’s shoulder. It’s a comfortable touch, the familiarity that they used to have with each other, and Gavin closes his eyes, Jeremy’s warm weight against his side reassuring somehow.

The other man needs him right now, that’s clear. And no matter what happened between them before, no matter how scared Gavin is of trusting him again - he cares about Jeremy enough to give him what he needs. He can’t deny him that. Not now.

\---

Later that evening, Gavin finds himself the one knocking on someone else’s door - Geoff’s, to be precise. Night’s fallen by now and Ryan’s making dinner, Jeremy’s in the shower - Gavin can hear them, the clatter of dishes and running water a soothing, domestic background noise.

Geoff looks up. He was sitting looking at his phone with that slight frown he gets when he’s trying to figure something out. But when he sees Gavin, he puts it away and smiles. 

“Hey,” he says, patting the bed next to him.

“Hi,” Gavin replies, inching into the room with his hands shoved in his pockets.

They made up before - sort of, when Geoff agreed to let Jeremy stay - but not properly, not after the argument they had in Geoff’s office. That was the biggest fight they’ve had in a long time, and it sits uneasily with Gavin, especially now when they need each other more than ever. So he comes over and clambers onto the bed, curling up against Geoff’s side. The other man drapes an arm down over his shoulders, hugging him closer.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he says immediately. “I should have told you that Jeremy came to see you as soon as I found out. Ryan should have, too. But we can’t really blame him for that - he was trying to protect both of you by warning him away. I may have, uh, thought it’d be a good idea to kill him.” 

“ _Geoff_ ,” Gavin chides, sitting up and staring at him indignantly. 

Geoff laughs. 

“It seems stupid now. Don’t worry,” he adds, when Gavin still stares at him with wide eyes. He runs a hand down his arm, soothingly. “I don’t want to hurt him. It was just me being a dumbass. I saw how Ryan looked at me when I came up with that bright idea. That’s not who I want to be. Not who I want _us_ to be.” 

“Good,” Gavin replies firmly, and settles against his shoulder again. There’s a long silence as he lets himself relax, feel safe and reassured by the other man the way he always has. Eventually, the words come.

“He said he loves me,” he says, and Geoff goes still where he was rubbing Gavin’s back. 

“How do you feel about that?” he asks, carefully.

“Scared,” Gavin admits. “Confused. I… I still care about him. Too much, Geoff. That’s stupid after what he did, right? But I can see why he did it, I _get it_ , and I can start to tell, now, which parts were real and which were lies. And all the important stuff… that was real.” 

Geoff listens, patiently. Gavin shifts against his side, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. 

“He kept coming back here,” he says quietly. “That shows he felt bad about it. I… I want to trust him again. I don’t, yet, but I want to.”

He looks up at Geoff, seeking some answer - half of him is still expecting a telling off, for Geoff to chastise him about so much as thinking about letting Jeremy in again, for him to warn him of all the ways this could go horribly wrong, tell him he’s stupid for letting himself be so weak. And Geoff would _never_ say that, he knows, but he’s expecting it - almost wants to hear it because it’d make it easier, make the choice for him - but it’s his own doubts talking, not Geoff; there’s nothing but a soft acceptance in the other man’s face. Something kind and even understanding. No easy answers here, nothing to take the decision away from Gavin and let him give in to his fears. 

Geoff doesn’t say anything, but after a moment he tugs Gavin up into a hug, a wordless comfort that Gavin accepts gratefully, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder and leaning heavily on him. It feels like letting him take some of the burden. For so long he never had anyone to rely on; since meeting Geoff it’s been a relief beyond words knowing someone else has his back, won’t let him do these hard things alone. 

“We’ll sort it out, okay?” Geoff murmurs into his ear, finally. “He must be just as confused. There’ll be a lot of shit going on with his job after all this - things he has to work out. We can’t say what will happen, not yet. Everything’s going to change for him and we don’t know where it will leave us. So for now just… take it slow, okay? Wait and see what happens. If I had my way,” he adds, a bit teasingly, “He’d leave this city as soon as possible. It’s safest for all of us. But I know he’s important to you, I know you don’t want him to go. So I’ll try and get to know him more too, while he’s here. We’ll see what happens. We’ll deal with it together. I’m here for you all the way.”

“I know,” Gavin whispers back, and presses his face into the other man’s neck. “Thank you.”

He feels Geoff squeeze him tighter and can’t help his small smile. Geoff, the first - the one person he tentatively let himself grow to trust completely, the first person to care about him enough to take care of him before even himself. Geoff who he adores and looks up to - nothing that’s happened to Gavin so far can break him, not if after his father, after England and everything that happened there, he was still able to meet someone and let them in. Geoff’s everything to him; a testament to his strengths, part of his dream for a better future - his friend, his _brother_. Just having him now makes it feel like everything will work out somehow. Like Gavin will always be okay.

He closes his eyes and listens to Geoff’s soft breathing, the pulse of his heart that Gavin can feel where his cheek is pressed against the junction of Geoff’s neck. Out in the other room, he hears the soft murmur of Jeremy and Ryan’s voices as they must run into each other and exchange a few words. Somehow, they’ve all found themselves here. And tonight, at least, none of them are alone.

\---

It feels very strange eating dinner all together. Gavin doesn’t think they’ve ever had a guest over before, so Jeremy is the very awkward first. Because literally everything is in boxes now - they’re moving tomorrow - they once again sit around in a circle on the floor scarfing down two minute noodles.

Jeremy’s positioned himself very close by Gavin’s side, a careful distance between himself and the other two. It’s a funny display of nervousness that, God help him, Gavin almost finds _endearing_. They all sit around in a very strained silence. It’s terrible. They can’t even watch TV because it’s all bloody packed up.

It’s Ryan who finally pipes up.

“So our contract with Sato is over,” he addresses Gavin, who turns to him in relief. “Today was my last day; Geoff’s is tomorrow. Once we’ve moved we’re gonna need to scout out some new work.”

“I’ve got a crew in mind,” Geoff adds. “Little group who pull heists. Remember that vault that got robbed a few weeks ago - and that cargo ship that was bringing electronics over? That was them. But they want us to prove ourselves by running our own little job. Show them we can hold our own, you know?”

“There room for a thief in there?” Gavin asks, and Geoff and Ryan go very still.

“You want to work with us,” Geoff begins slowly - like it’s the strangest thing in the world, which it really isn’t, but then again he’s tried for so long to keep Gavin away from the gangs around here. He and Ryan didn’t even work together until this last crew.

Gavin shrugs.

“O’Shannassy will be out for my blood now,” he points out. “Better if we’re all together, right? You can’t keep me out of this forever, Geoff,” he adds, a little sternly. “I made way more working with those smugglers than I ever did picking pockets.”

Geoff tilts his head, considering. Ryan’s watching Gavin too, now, with a small smile.

“It’d be cool if all three of us could start taking jobs together,” he says, and Gavin smiles back.

“We don’t have a lot of resources to pull our own heist with,” Geoff continues, “But I’ve been planning something and it might actually work a lot better with you on board, Gav.”

“So I have your parental permission, then,” Gavin mocks, and Geoff rolls his eyes.

“I suppose you do,” he sneers back. “I was thinking…”

He trails off, glancing over at Jeremy, who’s sitting right there awkwardly staring between each one of them. Like he’s watching a television show.

Gavin follows his gaze, and laughs.

“What’s he gonna do? Arrest us?” he asks, and Jeremy looks away, not seeming amused.

“I can hardly tell your plans to my boss when he’s working for the guy who wants to kill me,” he mutters.

Geoff glances over at Ryan, who just shrugs.

“Anyway,” Geoff finishes off then. “We’ll see how it goes.”

They turn back to their noodles in silence. Soon after Geoff gets up and goes to wash his bowl, Ryan following after him. Jeremy and Gavin are left sitting with each other - Gavin wary now, unsure if he’s upset the other man or where they stand.

“This is weird,” Jeremy says abruptly, and Gavin looks up at him. He’s staring down into his soup like it holds the secrets of the universe, stirring the murky brown liquid idly. “It just… feels so strange to be sitting here hearing your plans like it’s fucking dinner table conversation.”

“It kind of is,” Gavin admits. “Even when we have an actual dinner table.”

“It just feels wrong,” Jeremy says, and looks up. His eyes are wide and vulnerable. “I’ve put away heaps of people like you.”

Gavin bites his lip, unsure where this is going.

“If you tried to arrest everyone in AC who’d done something wrong,” he replies, “You’d be locking up the whole bloody city.”

“I know,” Jeremy replies, and sighs again. “It just… hearing all this, knowing that I won’t do anything to stop you guys robbing someone… I get why you do it, but. I don’t know.”

He reaches up and rubs his hands over his face. His beard’s longer than Gavin’s seen it in a long time, dark shadows under his eyes.

“I had a dream too,” he says. “For so long I thought I was going to fix all this. Now I realise I can’t. It’s hard to swallow.”

Gavin’s heart sinks. He knows how important the future he sees for himself, for Geoff, for Ryan is. And now Jeremy’s had the equivalent ripped away from him. He doesn’t know what to say.

After a moment Jeremy sighs again and picks his bowl up, only half finished. He wanders into the kitchen and Gavin stares after him helplessly. 

\---

The couch is covered in stuff, so Ryan’s been sleeping in Geoff’s room. Jeremy suggests sleeping on the floor, but Gavin invites him into his room, and it gets so cold at night now that he has little choice but to agree.

Gavin’s bed isn’t huge, but they lie on opposite ends of it. Even so, Gavin’s too aware of the other man’s presence - tries not to pull the blankets towards himself too much, or breathe too loudly. But he knows, either way, that Jeremy’s still awake. He can practically hear him thinking.

He’s funnily nervous, lying here silently in the dark.

 _Not how I thought sharing a bed with him would go_ , he can only think wryly. Once he might’ve been excited at the prospect of a sleepover. Under the current circumstances, he isn’t quite sure how he feels. 

Eventually the unspoken tension in the room simply becomes too much, and he rolls over to face the shadowy lump that is all he can see of Jeremy in the dark. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Jeremy does. He doesn’t turn over, his voice seeming to drift disembodied through the room, seeming terribly loud even if he’s barely speaking above a hushed whisper.

“Do you know why I became a cop?” he asks, and Gavin goes still. He hears Jeremy take a deep breath and continue. “I was in year nine. A kid in my grade - rich parents, probably part of all the shit that goes on in this city - got taken hostage by some enemies of his folks. They paid the ransom. Didn’t matter. Kid died anyway. The cops came in to talk to us about it and, God… They seemed like the only people doing a damn thing around here to keep us all safe. I wanted to do that too. I maybe talked to that boy a handful of times in class. Saw him at the lockers, on the bus. But I can’t stop thinking about him. I still remember his face. He still pops into my head almost every day. Weird, isn’t it? The things we latch onto when we’re young. The things that stick with us. They seemed like heroes, and I guess I wanted to be that too. I had such big ideas. I feel like an idiot now. Maybe I was too stupid to see then that the police didn’t care about us. Or maybe they did, maybe there are a few other good ones out there. I haven’t run into any since. Guess the city crushed them like it crushed me.” 

His voice falters away into silence. Gavin feels a strange heaviness in his chest at the defeat in the other man’s voice. He doesn’t know why; he’s always been so cynical about this city and what it does. But Jeremy… Jeremy’s always been so _good_. And he hates to see the other man lose that, lose hope, even if he himself doesn’t believe. 

He swallows, and shifts closer to Jeremy. They’re not quite touching, but he can feel the warmth of the other man’s body under the blankets and how his breath catches a little when Gavin moves towards him.

“My dad,” Gavin begins, and his voice cracks a little - he tells himself it’s because it’s late at night and they’ve been lying in silence for over an hour, but his heart is pounding and this is shit he doesn’t talk about with anyone, at least not so explicitly - “He… I… I was in that position once. I… don’t really like to talk about it. But he owed money to some people and when they came collecting all they found was me in the house… he didn’t pay. He didn’t come. I got out, but… after that I really knew I had no one.” 

Jeremy’s rolled over to look at him. Their faces are very close, and in the faint light filtering in through the window, Gavin can see how wide his eyes are. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he whispers, and reaches out and touches Gavin’s arm. His hand is very warm, or maybe Gavin’s just cold, even under all the blankets. He swallows again, clearing his throat. 

“Point is, people fail us all the time,” he says. “You pick who you’re loyal to. Who you trust. The people you know you can rely on, they’re the only ones who matter. Everyone else, you just try and not care about. It hurts less when they disappoint you.” 

Jeremy stares at him for a long moment. He hasn’t let go of his arm. 

“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you,” he says finally, with an odd fierceness. “If you hadn’t managed to get away from Larson when he arrested you, I would have helped you escape, or tried to.” 

“I appreciate that,” Gavin says, and can’t help his smile. He takes Jeremy’s hand and squeezes it gently, and his heart skips a beat when the other man shuffles closer to him until they’re lying with their shoulders pressed together.

“I’m scared of a lot of things,” Jeremy admits suddenly. “Not just the Corpirate. I’m scared of what will happen if I leave my job, what else there is for me to _do_. Where I can go from here. It just feels like there’s nothing. Even if this hadn’t happened, even if I’d never met you… people are hateful in the ACPD. It’s not a good place. Larson… and others… they’re bad people, even outside of the corruption.” 

Gavin squeezes his hand. In one respect he’s lucky; he hasn’t really had to deal with people when he’s been alone nearly his whole life. People in all their shitty, bigoted glory. He can only imagine what it must be like being surrounded by that every day. 

“Among us… this family… there’s none of that here,” he says quietly. “Jeremy, we’re trying to do good here, in a weird way. The dream… it’s not just for ourselves. Part of it is, but not all of it. We want to run this city not just for us, but for everybody who’d go along with it. If Geoff was in charge… it’d be a hell of a lot better than the Corpirate.”

“The lesser of two evils, huh?” Jeremy says wryly, but it’s not mocking, 

“I mean it,” Gavin says. “And sometimes… sometimes we need people to keep us in control. Geoff wanted to kill you, you know? And Ryan stopped him. Maybe he’s the one who takes bounties and hits for a living, but of the three of us he’s the moral compass around here. He’s not a bad person. And we need people like that. _I_ need people like that too, I think. I get… self destructive, sometimes, and I know it can get others hurt too. But since I met Geoff… I care about others more, the way he does. I didn’t used to. We need people to look up to.”

“I had them,” Jeremy murmurs. “They turned out to be shit.”

“So find new ones,” Gavin replies. “Or become that for other people. You’re still really young. Sometimes it seems like there’s nothing in front of us but you can make something new. I moved to America and found Geoff and everything changed for me.” 

“Yeah,” Jeremy says thoughtfully, and Gavin leans in on impulse until their foreheads are resting together, a funnily intimate moment, here in the dark and cold but warm under the blankets together. At three in the morning in this awful city. Safe, here. Together, at least. 

Jeremy lets out a shaky breath.

“Thanks, Gavin,” he whispers, and nestles in against Gavin’s shoulder. Gavin closes his eyes and lets himself smile a little, enjoy the other man’s warmth and whatever small comfort they can bring each other here as he finally feels himself relax and start to drift off. 

\--- 

“Are you gonna cry?” Ryan asks. 

“I’m not gonna cry,” Geoff replies, tearfully.

They’re standing in the empty kitchen, looking around. It’s strange to see the place so barren and devoid of its usual mess and clutter. It’s so early in the morning that it’s still dark outside, the occasional mournful call of a bird the only sound in the eerie quiet. Soon the moving van will be here. 

Gavin is swallowing his own emotions away where he stands by Geoff’s side. It’s only really hitting him now that they’re actually going to leave. For all his brave words about home being where his family is, this place is special. There are a lot of memories here. It’ll be weird leaving, and he’s a little upset, even if he’ll never let it show. Since meeting Geoff he hasn’t dealt too well with change, not now that he finally has something special to hold on to.

He’s clutching Edgar in his pot, holding onto that one familiar thing at least.

“This became home for me,” Ryan says abruptly, after a very sad pause. “More than my other flat ever was. Thank you for letting me join you here.”  
  
There’s something too sincere in the words; both Geoff and Gavin smile, and Geoff reaches out and jostles Ryan in the side.

“You big sap,” he says, and then, “Don’t make me sad! I’m trying to be stoic and manly, here.”

Ryan laughs.

“I mean it,” he says, “I love this place.  Even that shitty couch I slept on for so long. And remember all the times we’d play poker around the kitchen table, or move the couch out of the way so we could exercise in the living room. The whole damn floor would shake when we jumped with a skipping rope. And that stupid old dishwasher,” he adds fondly, gazing at said dishwasher and shaking his head. “Flooding all the damn time. One of us needs to learn some basic plumbing.”

“I nominate you,” Gavin says immediately. 

“I already fix and clean everything else!” Ryan protests, laughing. “But for real. I’ll miss a lot of things about here.”

“We’ll make new memories,” Geoff replies softly. But still, for a moment they just stand and take it in. The atmosphere of this place - the flickering kitchen light and the faint, rather alarming smell of mold. The noise of their neighbours, someone still watching TV way too loudly upstairs, the couple in the flat below them who thump like an elephant whenever they walk. It’s home. Gavin looks down at Edgar in his arms and smiles. The cactus has grown really big now, with all the love (and carbon dioxide) they’ve given him.

Geoff puts an arm around his waist suddenly, tugging both of them close to his sides and wrapping his arms around him. Gavin leans his head against the other man’s shoulder, and peers past him to smile at Ryan, who smiles back.

“The new place will be really cool,” Geoff announces. “Ryan and I can share a room. We’ll actually have some more space to ourselves. Gav, now that you’ve finally cleared out all the junk in your bedroom you might finally have room for more actually useful things.”

“Oi,” Gavin murmurs, although it’s true that when packing he did a big purge of all the mess that’d accumulated of things he’d stolen. There were rather a lot of them. 

“We’ll have fun breaking everything in,” Geoff says. “Getting everything to a comfortable state of _damaged_.”

“Do _not_ get us kicked out of this place,” Ryan cuts in immediately. “Do you know how hard it was finding a place we could afford on the other side of town?” 

Geoff laughs and Ryan rolls his eyes and playfully jostles him. They fall into a comfortable silence again, looking around at the life they’ve built here. 

A shuffling footstep eventually makes them turn. Jeremy’s emerging into the adjoining living room; he’d gone to wash up. Gavin startles a little when he realises the other man’s shaved. He looks really different without a beard - he supposes that’s the point; it makes a good disguise. For a moment Jeremy hovers awkwardly - the three of them are still standing with their arms around each other, and he seems painfully left out.

“Just having a moment over here,” Geoff says. “Don’t mind us.”

“Right,” Jeremy replies, with a small smile. 

Gavin untangles himself from the other two and walks over to Jeremy, shifting Edgar into one arm so he can reach out and squeeze Jeremy’s shoulder with the other, pulling him close as well. Jeremy looks over and gives him a grateful little smile; they haven't really talked this morning since falling asleep in each other's arms the night before, but he leans into Gavin’s touch and Gavin’s relieved that what happened last night wasn’t just exhaustion letting their walls down. That this morning, they're still okay. 

He looks back over at Ryan and Geoff to find the two of them still standing pressed close together, giving both of them knowing looks. They’re obviously still wary about Jeremy - but Gavin fancies there’s something almost pleased in their faces as they watch them.

Finally Geoff claps his hands together.

“Right then,” he declares loudly. “Let’s get rolling, the moving van will be here any minute now.” 

\---

The men helping them move are under the protection of a gang that Geoff helped out a little while back. They’re allies, people who can be trusted - even so, Jeremy wears a cap low over his eyes and a pair of sunglasses Gavin stole a long while ago, just in case anyone recognises him as they head over to the new apartment and start unloading boxes and furniture. 

The new place is in a nicer part of the city - a somewhat less rundown apartment building, through probably still a place where half the residents are involved in less than legal activity. They’re on the second floor, and there isn’t a lift, so most of the day is spent lugging boxes up the staircase.

It’s strange, having Jeremy help out - but it’s nice having another pair of hands. He sticks close to Gavin, while Ryan and Geoff talk and laugh amongst themselves, the younger two mostly working in silence.

Still. Jeremy’s not unhappy to be here, Gavin thinks - he smiles at Gavin whenever they catch each other’s eyes, and he works hard, stacking boxes on top of each other and carrying up to three at once.

“I got that,” he says, coming up to Gavin when he’s struggling with a heavy box at the turn of the stairs. He sweeps in and easily lifts it for him while Gavin stares at him, unable to stop the way his gaze drifts over the strong lines of Jeremy’s muscles under his shirt - it’s one of Ryan’s, and too tight across his shoulders. Jeremy raises his eyebrows and Gavin turns away, flustered and unsure what to do with himself as he watches the other man carry the box upstairs for him.

A snicker behind him as him turning to see Geoff, watching the whole thing, and he feels his face go even redder.

“Don’t say a fucking thing,” he says, and Geoff holds his hands up defensively.

“I didn’t say anything!” he replies, but his shit-eating grin speaks volumes, and Gavin ducks his head and elbows his way past him.

Geoff does his share of ogling moments later, when Ryan decides to attempt to bring the sofa upstairs. He picks up one end of it with a series of rather questionable grunting sounds, while Geoff watches, grinning. A moment later Jeremy hurries over to help them, and their height difference means that when they each pick up an end it’s hilarious to watch. Geoff and Gavin both hang back, snickering, and both men look over and scowl at them.

“Stop that, you,” Ryan says sternly. He’d be pointing a finger at Geoff if his hands weren’t full. “Unless you two want to carry it upstairs.”

“What a kind boyfriend,” Geoff says, and he’s clearly addressing Ryan but Gavin doesn’t miss the way Jeremy’s eyes dart over to him before flicking away again.

They don’t have a lot of furniture, so it doesn’t take too long to get everything brought in. It’s strange seeing it all in a new place, and they have several arguments over where to arrange everything, but by that evening Gavin ends up with the time to start unpacking a few things in his room. He’s already got his bed frame in the corner, and Jeremy comes in and helps him put the mattress on and start making it up.

It’s a little smaller than his previous room, but he threw out so much stuff when moving that it only makes the space feel even emptier. It’s weird thinking he’ll be living here now. After how long they spent at the old place, he can’t think ahead as to whether they’ll spend months here, or years - whether they’ll find themselves moving again soon, or if this will be the next place they properly set their lives up. He isn’t quite sure if he should be settling in yet or not.

“You can put your stuff in the cupboard if you like,” Gavin says, when Jeremy finishes making the bed and starts cutting open more of Gavin’s boxes.

The other man looks up at him.

“I don’t have much,” he replies. “Didn’t exactly pack before I ran out of my apartment from a fucking assassin. I only have my uniform and my bike.”

Gavin bites his lip. He spent so long living on the streets with only a backpack full of things to his name that he’s used to being transient, and even now he’s not really attached to material things. But Jeremy probably had heaps back at his flat that he’ll miss now.

“Can we risk going back to get more things?” he muses, but Jeremy sighs.

“Probably not. Look at all this,” he adds, and holds out his phone to Gavin. There are about twelve missed calls from Larson, and Gavin grimaces.

“You should destroy that,” he points out. “They might be able to track you with it.”

“I haven’t listened to his messages,” Jeremy sighs, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “I don’t know what he wants. If he’s looking for me, or just wonders why I’m not at work. He must know about the hit out on me, right? You think he’d kill me? My own boss?”

“If the Corpirate wants you dead, and he works for him? Yes,” Gavin says - probably a bit too matter-of-factly. He’s unprepared for the way Jeremy’s face crumples a little as he turns away, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. It’s an oddly childlike motion for him, and Gavin’s heart tugs a little to see it. 

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Jeremy murmurs. “And he’s not a good guy. But he… he was meant to be my mentor, of sorts. How can people just… not care about others like that?” 

Gavin doesn’t know what to say. He wants to reach out and touch Jeremy, but feels awkward, reaching out and picking up the box cutter instead, fiddling with it and flicking the blade in and out. 

“I learned a lot from Geoff you know,” he replies. It’s all he can think to offer. “But since Ryan joined us… I learn from him too. He has the most violent job of all of us but he also cares the most about people, it’s… I don’t know. Geoff and I are so similar that we already think a lot of the same things. But because Ryan is so different I guess there’s more he can teach me…” 

He trails off. He isn’t sure what he’s offering, here - that Jeremy can learn from the other men too, or something like that - Jeremy looks up, and presses his lips together.

“I don’t want to be a criminal,” he says, pitifully.

“But you can exist here,” Gavin replies. “In AC, and play the game, without becoming as bad as some of the others? There’s no pure good here, not even in the police force. I don’t have to tell you that by now.”

“If you can’t beat them, join them,” Jeremy says very tiredly. “Join the ones that aren’t so bad.”

“Or you could leave the city,” Gavin says, quietly. “That’s your other option.”  
  
Jeremy’s silent a long moment.

“I grew up here,” he says finally, but sounds lost, like he doesn’t know if that even means anything, to him or to anyone else.

“Your parents don’t live here anymore,” Gavin points out, and Jeremy sighs and reaches up, running his hands over his face. He doesn’t reply, and Gavin reaches out and finally touches his shoulder, gently. 

“I don’t know, Li’l J,” he says, feeling painfully helpless. “I haven’t got the answers you want.” 

Jeremy just nods, and pulls out his phone again, looking at all the missed calls. Gavin lets his hand drop slowly, nothing left to say. Jeremy must never have imagined his job ending like this, his career in the ACPD over when it had barely begun - he doesn’t know how it feels, has no wise words for him.

\---

Later that evening, he goes to Ryan. It’s still strange being in this new apartment, but seeing the other man pottering around, putting things on shelves and straightening furniture, makes it feel more like home. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Gavin tells him. “Please help him.” 

Ryan’s face is worried and kindly as he squeezes Gavin’s shoulder and looks over at where Jeremy is sitting on the couch, hands folded in his lap, seeming small and lost. He’s older, he’ll know what to do, Gavin thinks - always seems to. Geoff’s different; he helped Gavin a lot but the world of Achievement City is so ingrained in him that he’s on a completely different page to Jeremy. But Ryan - Ryan understands him, or so Gavin hopes.

“I’ll try,” Ryan says, and Gavin smiles at him gratefully. 

They eat dinner around the table that night, a motley gathering of scraps since they haven’t had time to go grocery shopping lately. It’s mostly an exercise in who can make the most interesting sandwich out of the very random assortment of ingredients they have. Also, it seems they need to buy more chairs. They’ve always gotten by with just three before, which was enough after Ryan came along. Now Gavin ends up on his desk chair, swivelling aimlessly as they eat in silence. 

Ryan’s watching Jeremy, and Gavin’s waiting for him to say something. Jeremy’s got his head down, focused on his food, still despondent. Finally Ryan lowers his sandwich, and clears his throat.

“He’s gonna keep coming after you,” he says - Jeremy’s head snaps up. There’s something patient and understanding in Ryan’s face. Dressed in an old t-shirt and tracksuit pants, he doesn’t look threatening at all, not like the Vagabond that Jeremy’s probably seen in all his spying. “I know what he’s like. Unless he thinks you’re dead, he won’t give up. That’s the only thing that stopped him coming after me.”

“Even if you leave the city you might not be safe,” Geoff chimes in. “If he thinks you’re still planning to expose him to some outside source, he’ll follow you. And he’ll go after people you care about.”

“So you think I need to fake my death, then,” Jeremy says flatly. “My parents…” 

Gavin looks away. He doesn’t know much about parents, has never had to worry about his and what they'd think of what he’s doing. Geoff either, and from what he knows Ryan’s own didn’t care much. Probably don’t even know about what he does nowadays. 

It makes things a lot more complicated. But the idea comes to him, and suddenly seems very clear. 

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” he says, and everyone at the table turns to look at him. “We’re gonna take him down, right? Our crew. That’s the dream - to get on top, and to do that we’re gonna topple the Corpirate. I know it always seems very far away, something that’s gonna happen in the future - but why not set to it in earnest? After all, there are four of us now.”

“Four?” Geoff asks, and then glances at Jeremy and seems to realise exactly what Gavin's getting at. “Oh.”

“We kill him,” Gavin says excitedly, “Take over, become the biggest in the city… we can start recruiting properly soon, find more people to help us. That gang you talked about who pull heists? We join them, that’ll be step one. And once the Corpirate’s dead, you can safely tell your parents you’re still alive! That’s something to work towards, right?”

“You want me to join your gang?” Jeremy asks, eyes wide.

“To help us take him down,” Gavin says. “So that you can keep yourself and your family safe. You don’t have to participate that much, you can just help us manage things. You can wear a disguise like Ryan, so no one knows it’s you. There are things we need, like getaway drivers and people to help with organising and planning. You could do all that.”

“Can I talk to you for a sec, Gav?” Geoff says. He gets up from the table and Gavin follows him, curiously, into the kitchen. 

“He’s a cop,” Geoff hisses, leaning in. “You can’t just invite him to join us.”

“Once he fakes his death, he’s not,” Gavin points out. “Geoff… we trusted Ryan, and now he helps keep us in check-”

“Ryan’s different,” Geoff replies stiffly. “He’s already caught up in all this.”

“Jeremy is too now, whether he likes it or not,” Gavin whispers furiously. “Geoff, he said he’d’ve helped me escape when I was arrested, I… I think I trust him to work with us. What else can he do? Where else can he go? How can he turn on us - who would he go to? I don’t think this is all some play.”

Geoff looks torn. He glances back over at the table, at Ryan who’s talking to Jeremy about something that looks like it’s unrelated; they’re both smiling and seem relieved to have moved on to a lighter topic. Gavin knows Geoff will talk to him about all this, see what he thinks. That both of them will keep a close eye on Jeremy if he stays. 

But he knows Ryan, knows he’ll be on his side in this. And looking at Jeremy, sitting here hunched over his plate, he looks lost like Gavin was when Geoff first met him. And Geoff’s always been a big softie, even now Gavin can see his resolve faltering at the sight of the younger man. Gavin reaches out and presses arm.

“I think he sees the way things are here, now,” he says, and Geoff sighs.

“You kids will be the death of me,” he mutters, reaching up and rubbing his temples. “Okay.”

Gavin smiles at him, gratefully, and Geoff’s own lips twitch before he heads back over to the table, Gavin trailing after him. Ryan and Jeremy fall silent when they approach, looking up at him expectantly. Geoff hovers by his chair, not sitting down yet. 

“What do you want to do?” he asks Jeremy, who blinks a few times, surprised.

 “This,” he replies finally. “I… I think. I don’t have much of a choice, but… the Corpirate needs to get taken down. I thought I could do it on my own, but the system here, it doesn’t work. With you guys, I can. It solves the rest of my problems. After that… I’ll see where I am.”

“You’re in, then,” Geoff says, and Jeremy glances at Gavin, hovering behind Geoff expectantly, before nodding.  
  
“Yes.”

He and Geoff exchange a long look, sizing each other up and seeming to be trying to figure out where this leaves them. Ryan reaches out and squeezes Gavin’s arm, shooting him a small smile.

“Okay,” Geoff says finally, and sits down again, turning back to his food like nothing even happened. Gavin can’t help his smile, the relief and excitement that blossoms in his chest, and when Jeremy looks back over at him again the other man even smiles back. 

\---

Gavin wakes up not knowing where he is. For a moment there’s panic - he thrashes, trying to get the covers off himself, staring around frantically trying to work out what these unfamiliar walls are, why it’s so dark-

Then it comes back to him, that they moved flats, that this is his new bedroom. He isn't used to it yet, and the blinds are drawn, stopping any light from getting in. He can’t tell what time it is and breathes heavily for a moment, trying to calm down.

“Are you okay?”

The voice makes him jump and he remembers abruptly that Jeremy’s in the bed with him. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, recovering himself, and then leans up and pulls the blinds open a bit. Grey morning light filters through - seems like it’s just past dawn - and he turns to meet Jeremy’s eyes. The other man is sitting up a bit, watching him in concern.

“Yeah,” Gavin replies softly. “Are you?”

Jeremy looks tired, dark shadows under his eyes. His stubble’s growing back a little and there’s a greenish bruise on his jaw where Niamh hit him. But he smiles a bit now.

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s a long silence. Gavin shivers a little, cold now that he’s sat up, and pulls the covers up around his shoulders, leaning back against the wall next to the bed. Jeremy sits up more too, huddling closer to him.

“They’ll be watching your flat,” Gavin says abruptly, “Waiting for you to come back, but eventually… we can go back and get your stuff. Assuming they didn’t burn down the whole place like they did with Ryan’s.”

“Reassuring.”

“I mean it, though - I’m good at sneaking in and out of places. I can get in and bring out whatever you want from there.”

“I don’t want you to put yourself in danger,” Jeremy begins, but when Gavin shoots him a raised eyebrow he huffs a little and smiles. “But thanks.” 

Gavin smiles back, and they sit a little longer, both waking up slowly. A bird calls outside; traffic’s starting up. It’s strange hearing the sounds of an unfamiliar neighbourhood.

“Is this weird?” Gavin asks then, remember what happened last night. “Being with us now.”

“It is, kinda,” Jeremy admits. Both of them are staring straight ahead, not looking at each other, but Gavin can feel how tense he is with their shoulders pressed together. “I never thought I’d end up joining this side of things. I thought I was above all that. I guess when you grow up here, it ends up in you whether you like it or not.”

“It’s not like that,” Gavin replies, not liking the little undercurrent of self-disgust in Jeremy’s voice. He turns to him properly, and the other man looks up, meeting his eyes. “It’s _not_. Not for you. You came back trying to clean this place up. That was important to you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“No, you’re right,” Jeremy admits, and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean that. Maybe it was never my calling, but I can still do some good with you guys.”

“It feels weird to hear you talk about it as _doing good,_ ” Gavin says, and Jeremy huffs out a little laugh.

“Well, for me it is. I have to think of it like that - my intention is still to try and make AC a better place. Maybe not in the way I originally imagined. But it can be something else for you, if you don’t see it that way.” 

“I don’t think I do,” Gavin admits. He picks at the blankets. “I think I’m very selfish. I’m not really doing this for other people.”

“You’re not selfish,” Jeremy murmurs, but Gavin gives a tight smile.

“I am. I don’t want you to leave AC even though I know it’s the best thing for you. It’d be safer, you’d be with your family…” he trails off, embarrassed by the admission.

Jeremy is staring at him, eyes wide. For a moment, Gavin’s worried he’s upset him. Then he breaks into a smile.

“I’m not going anywhere right now,” he says firmly. “We’ll see what happens, okay? For now, we have a goal, something we’re all working towards. That’s good. That… that helps me.”

Gavin smiles back. His eyes drift down and he notices a glimmer of gold against Jeremy’s throat. He startles as he realises the other man is still wearing the necklace he gave him. Jeremy follows his gaze and notices what he’s looking at; he chuckles and pulls the chain out from under his shirt.

“You kept it,” Gavin says. It comes out a whisper, something too surprised and vulnerable in it.

“Of course I did,” Jeremy says, running the little pendant between his finger and thumb. 

Gavin laughs, but there’s something shy about it, especially when Jeremy smiles back at him, something terribly fond in it.

“Would you take it all back?” Gavin asks. “If you could have never met me, never have gotten tangled up with the Corpirate… you could have continued helping people in the NYPD, even in little ways. Eventually worked your way up. Maybe things would have turned out better.”

“No,” Jeremy replies, without any hesitation. Gavin blinks, taken aback - “I wouldn’t want to have not met you.” 

“Really?” Gavin asks softly, eyes wide. “You think that’s worth all this trouble?”

“Of course you are,” Jeremy says firmly, and there’s no regret in his voice, not so much as a hint that he doesn’t whole heartedly believe it.

“Oh,” Gavin replies. He can only stare, his heart slamming in his chest. Because the words - _I love you_ \- maybe it hadn’t quite hit him what that meant yet, not really. He feels suddenly very flustered, and doesn’t quite know what to say.

Jeremy reaches up and touches his cheek, gently - Gavin shivers, but leans into the other man’s hand after a moment. Jeremy’s looking at him intently, something soft in his eyes.

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly. 

Gavin hesitates. He knows Jeremy’s asking about more than just touching him. Knows that this is about the trust that was broken, the words that have been said since. Where this is all taking them. And the fear of how badly this could all go wrong is hovering at the back of his mind - but he focuses on the warmth of Jeremy’s hand against his cheek, the other man’s kind eyes watching him carefully, how he knows that if he so much as shakes his head Jeremy won’t push. He takes a deep breath.

“Yes,” he replies quietly. He’s the one to lean in, meeting Jeremy’s lips gently. 

They’re both being too careful, not wanting to move too fast. Tentative, not to mention they both just woke up - but it’s no less thrilling than the first time, even if it’s softer and slower and Jeremy’s hand stays pressed carefully to his cheek, not pulling or pushing him into anything more than what he’s giving. After a moment Gavin brings a hand up and rests it gently on the other man’s shoulder, leaning in further, deepening the kiss just a little before they break apart.

“I missed you,” he blurts out, because he’s still just so _relieved_ to have Jeremy back, let alone staying with them and joining their crew - Jeremy’s eyes widen before he drops his head down against Gavin’s shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, and Gavin wraps an arm around him, holding him close. 

Under all the lies, everything that happened - they were still always friends and he’s so glad to have Jeremy here with them now. And it won’t be easy, taking down the Corpirate, and Jeremy still has some hard choices to make, and Gavin knows he still has his own trials ahead of him wherever this leads him - but he can’t help but be excited about the dream, about the prospect of progress, of actually _doing this_ \- and of doing it with Geoff, and Ryan, and Jeremy beside him. Suddenly it all seems very much in sight. 

\--- 

“Everyone in position?” Geoff whispers, his voice crackling through the cheap earpiece. “I’m about to start the distraction.”

“I’m ready,” Jeremy adds, in Gavin’s left ear.

 “Me too.” Ryan - he’s not far from Gavin, just around the corner of the building.

Gavin takes a deep breath.

“I’m ready,” he says, and Geoff chuckles before heading back into the thick of things - Gavin can hear the chatter of other people on the other end of his earpiece, laughter and groans and the rattle of dice on a table. 

The bar is a fancy place, run by a bad group of people this side of the city. Not as big as the Corpirate, but a mean bunch who like to trap people in debt and force them to work it off. The bar itself is closed at this hour, dark and locked up, but the lights are on in the upper storey where the crew runs their gambling ring. Geoff will be in there now, starting a fight that’ll bring the security guards in the bar itself upstairs.

And then Gavin and Ryan will sneak in and rob the place blind. With his typical flair for the theatrical, Geoff wants them to steal a priceless bottle of wine that’s been on display in the place for a decade. The crew they’re trying to impress will appreciate that, apparently. Gavin’s never met them - Burnie Burns and Jack Pattillo are the head honchos, and their names are familiar from a few epic heists they pulled a while back, but Geoff’s done all the communicating with them so far.

If all this goes according to plan, all four of them will be joining up. Geoff’s called in contacts of his, gotten the news spread around that Jeremy’s been killed. Even produced a body, of similar height and stature - they’re still playing it safe, not letting him show his face around, but if the rumours spread it shouldn’t be long before the Corpirate starts to back off.

“Who’s cheating?” he hears Geoff demand, and straightens up, getting ready to go. He’s out in a back alley behind the bar, waiting for the signal for him to move - it’s cold out here, but with the adrenaline pumping through his veins he barely even notices.

The smash of a bottle breaking, yells and swears from over the comm - he hears Geoff’s voice, rising indignantly, trying to mediate-

“Gavin,” Jeremy says. He’s sitting in a van out front. “Just saw the lights switch on, the guards went upstairs. Go now!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, moving swiftly forward to the service door at the back of the bar. The door itself is bolted, but the window above it isn’t - he climbs onto the bins next to the door, breaks it open and squeezes himself through, catlike, before dropping down inside and running to the side door to let Ryan in.

“About time,” Ryan says. “It was getting nippy out there.”

Gavin laughs. It’s exhilarating having the others here - normally he works alone, and he’s used to it, but this is _fun_ , having the others along - hearing Geoff shouting at people in his ear, melodramatic - he can hear the commotion upstairs as well, drifting down from the second storey.

“Let’s hurry,” he says. 

They head out into the bar and Gavin immediately spots the wine. It’s displayed at the back of the bar, in a locked glass case. He grabs his lockpicks and sets to work while Ryan keeps watch.

“There’s a pinball machine!” Ryan exclaims suddenly. “Oh my God, let’s steal that too.”

“I like the way you think,” Gavin says.

“You sure that’s doable?” Jeremy asks, worried. “That sounds… big and heavy.”

“That sounds _hilarious_ ,” Geoff hisses, between all the yelling on his end. “Fucking do it if you can, Burns will find it hysterical.” 

Gavin’s hands are shaking. He’s never been nervous on a job before, but knowing how important this is is getting to him. He pauses in what he’s doing, trying to orient himself - it’s one of the harder locks he’s ever picked.

“Gav?” Jeremy asks, gently, noticing his silence as Ryan goes over to the pinball machine and starts working out how to move it. “You doing okay?”

“Fine,” Gavin says, but it comes out tightly. 

“Hey. Deep breaths, you got this.” 

He sounds so patient that Gavin can only smile. He takes a slow breath, lets it out, and refocuses himself. Before too long the case pops open and he lets out a triumphant hiss, grabbing the bottle of wine and shoving it into his bag along with several other expensive looking whiskeys.

There’s a gunshot from upstairs, followed by a lot of shouting, and both Gavin and Ryan jump.

“Geoff?” Ryan asks.

“All good,” Geoff replies, sounding strained. “About to try and get out the back. Jeremy, get ready!” 

“I’ve pulled the van around the front,” Jeremy says.

Gavin hurries over to Ryan and between them they get the pinball machine up and towards the door. They open it and are just about to head out when there’s a shout from behind them.

“Stop right there!” a woman cries, and they spin around to see two security guards heading down the stairs towards them. They’re members of the crew, Gavin knows - already raising their guns. He exchanges a glance with Ryan and then dives down under the pinball table just as they start firing. Ryan’s got his own gun out, he shoots the women in the shoulder and she stumbles against the wall with a yell, dropping her gun.

Gavin snatches up a bottle and throws it at the remaining man. He flinches back when it smashes against the wall next to him, and Ryan takes advantage of the distraction to shoot him in the leg. He drops with a scream and Ryan shoots the light next, plunging the bar into darkness, except for the open door behind them.

“Gav,” he hisses, and Gavin scrambles to his feet again and between them they get the pinball machine out. Jeremy’s van is right out the front and he’s already climbing out and going to open the doors for them. He’s got a mask on too, one of Ryan’s plain white ones, and it’s strange seeing him faceless like that. Still - even in the dim street light, Gavin sees his eyes crinkle behind the mask as he smiles when he gently bumps Gavin out of the way and takes the pinball machine from him, hefting it up along with Ryan into the back before slamming the door shut. 

“Around the back!” Geoff yells in their ears, making them all cringe at the volume. “I’m about to jump out a fucking window, I’d appreciate a pick-up.”

Jeremy gets back in the front, Ryan behind him, Gavin scrambling into the backseat as they pull around to the street behind the bar just in time to watch Geoff burst out of a window on the ground story and run across the street. There’s a man chasing him, waving a gun - Jeremy swings the van around and hits him, sending him skidding across the road.

“Bloody hell!” Gavin exclaims, craning his neck to see - Ryan’s sat up straight too with a hiss.

“I… I don’t…” Jeremy stares at the man he hit - he’s alive, groaning and trying to push himself up before falling back down.

“He was gonna shoot Geoff,” Gavin says, reaching forward and squeezing his shoulder - Jeremy looks at him, eyes huge. Before he can say anything else, Geoff opens the door and clambers in. 

“Nice work, kid. That asshole shot two people upstairs and was about to get me, too. Oh, he’s getting up - run over him again!”

“What? No!” Jeremy says - there are more gunshots from inside the building. “You’ve started a fucking riot, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Wait!” Gavin cries suddenly, a thought hitting him. “I fucked up, I forgot to rob the cash register like we planned. It took me so long to get the wine-”

“It’s fine,” Geoff says, but Gavin shakes his head, starting to climb back out.

“The whole point of this was to rob a place, we can’t go to Burns without the money-”

“We have more than enough to prove ourselves to him,” Ryan argues. “You can’t go back in there. Just leave it-” 

“Gavin.” Jeremy grabs his wrist and Gavin goes still. The other man reaches up and pulls his mask off, and he still looks a bit shell shocked from all that’s happened, but there’s the usual kind patience in his face. “It’s fine. You did well, okay? We have enough. No need to put yourself in danger just for a bit of money. They’ve probably emptied it all out at the end of the night, anyway.”

Gavin hesitates - but his recklessness over the last few weeks was always a way to distract himself from what was going on with Jeremy. It became habitual - but he doesn’t need that, any more. He lets the words sink in, looks at Jeremy’s gentle smile and nods, climbing back in and shutting the door. Geoff reaches out and jostles his arm, grinning at him, and they speed away as more men begin to spill out from the building and the vague wail of sirens starts up in the distance.

\---

They want to make sure no one follows them, so they take a winding route out of the city - Burns’ hideout is quite a distance away, and they’ll head there next, but once they’re sure they’re clear they stop to catch their breath on a cliffside road overlooking the city.

They’re laughing by now, breathless and excited - up here, it feels like they’re untouchable, and the high of a job successfully completed is getting to Gavin, making him feel alight and alive. One day the sprawl of red and yellow lights under them will be theirs. This city feels like home, now, more than England ever did, but only when he’s here with the others looking down at it and knowing it’s something they can claim. 

They get out of the truck and sit on the grass and after a moment Jeremy reaches out and takes Gavin’s hand. He looks over and finds the other man grinning, laughing with the rest of them.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Gavin says, and Jeremy turns to him with a big smile.

“There’s a rush to breaking the law,” he says, “I have to admit that.”

“Your conscience not killing you too much?”

“Not yet,” Jeremy says, but his tone is teasing and Gavin knows he’s okay.

Geoff and Ryan have gone silent nearby, and they look over to find the two of them kissing - Ryan leaning back on his elbows on the grass, Geoff practically straddling him. He laughs, and Jeremy lets out his own flustered giggle, his face going red.

“Okay,” he says, turning away, and Gavin shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

“Seriously though,” he says. “Do you feel bad about this, about what we did tonight? That man you hit…”

Jeremy bites his lip, but after a moment he shakes his head firmly.

“No,” he replies, and takes a deep breath. “I have a purpose. I know what we’re doing all this for. I think I’m right where I need to be, actually.”

Gavin nods, slowly. Then smiles, and Jeremy smiles, too, his eyes like stars. He squeezes Gavin’s hand and Gavin leans in and presses their lips together. He intends for it to be brief, almost chaste, but Jeremy reaches up and puts a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him in closer. For a moment the kiss deepens, more passionate - then Gavin squeaks as he falls off balance and has to put his hands out to steady himself against Jeremy’s chest. Jeremy laughs at him and leans in, kissing the side of his neck instead, and Gavin shivers, fingers clenching in the fabric of the other man’s shirt a little.

Someone clears their throat above them and they look up to see Geoff, dangling two beer bottles between his fingers.

“If you guys are quite finished,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“You’re one to talk,” Gavin replies, shifting so that he’s sitting curled up against Jeremy’s side instead. He holds out a hand for a beer and Geoff tosses one to him, Ryan coming up and plonking himself on the ground next to him too. Geoff offers Jeremy the other bottle and he hesitates, then takes it. Gavin rolls his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had bevs before.”

“It’s against the law,” Jeremy says, but laughs. “No, I have. Looks like I’m breaking all the rules tonight.”

“We’ll make a bad boy of you yet,” Geoff says, nearly fondly, and Jeremy grins at him. It’s a good start, makes something warm and happy bubble up in Gavin’s chest to see them getting along. Geoff sits down next to him and they clink their beers together, Gavin leaning across him to knock bottles with Ryan next. 

They sit back and drink, and after a moment Jeremy tucks an arm around Gavin’s waist. It’s very cold out here in the winter night, but he’s warm and Gavin snuggles in against him, smiling. Geoff’s knee is bumping against his, and when Ryan drapes an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders, Gavin can feel his hand brushing against his own arm. 

It’s been a long, strange road getting here.

He remembers flying here as a kid, seeing the city for the first time at night like this, a myriad of lights out the tiny aeroplane window. Terrified of what was in store for him, of leaving the familiarity of England for nothing but a hope that things might be better here. 

And he’s been messed up for a long time, unconcerned about others and heedless of his own safety. Not caring about anyone and certain that no one else cared about him either. but things have changed now, and this feels like _home_ \- Geoff, and Ryan. And Jeremy, who makes him want to try harder, who adds some noble disposition to the dream - he’s better with him around.

Jeremy leans in then and presses his cheek to Gavin’s; it’s a funny, intimate motion and Gavin smiles and closes his eyes, snuggling closer into him. 

There are still sirens wailing in the city below, the distant song of Achievement City, but up here the sound is faint and distorted and fades into the wind. Jeremy is warm against his side, and he can hear Geoff and Ryan chuckling about something next to them, genuine, fond little laughs, and all four of them, here and now, seem to fit together so perfectly - it feels the start of something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to fangirling-on-the-tardis for making these [three](http://8tracks.com/kenz-the-awesome/who-we-are-where-we-re-going-chapter-1) [amazing](http://8tracks.com/kenz-the-awesome/who-we-are-where-we-re-going-chapter-2) [fanmixes](http://8tracks.com/kenz-the-awesome/who-we-are-where-we-re-going-chapter-3) for the fic <3
> 
> The next thing I'm working on is the Where The Lost Go sequel :')


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